


Sideways

by floorcoaster, In_Dreams



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action & Romance, Alternate Timelines, Canon-Typical Violence, Collusion, Eventual Relationships, Experimental Magic, Explicit Language, Explosions, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Infiltration, Kidnapping, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Minor Character Death, Order of the Phoenix (Harry Potter), Romance, Weapons, Wizarding Wars (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:42:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 79,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27331396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/floorcoaster/pseuds/floorcoaster, https://archiveofourown.org/users/In_Dreams/pseuds/In_Dreams
Summary: Hermione wakes up and nothing she knows is the same. In the war-torn ruins of London, she runs into the last person she expected, and together they have to solve the mysteries that surround them. And, somehow, fight to get back home. Dramione.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Theodore Nott/Harry Potter
Comments: 312
Kudos: 538
Collections: The Dramione Collection





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Authors' Note: The concept for this story came about from a Facebook meme wherein two writers would write one story—but in alternating chapters with each integrating opposing tropes and themes. The meme presented the idea as a challenge between the two writers, but we took a slightly more cooperative route with this. This project has been in the works since the beginning of March. 
> 
> In Dreams was given the trope of apocalypse and a theme of drama; Floorcoaster was given the fake dating trope with a comedy theme. With every chapter, we had to utilise what we were given from the other to advance the storyline, and we received each chapter from one another blind. In the end, most elements of the story evolved naturally from one another.
> 
> The result is this: Sideways, or its longtime codename Apocacomedy. This story is eleven chapters fully written, and will be updated every Sunday. The writer of each chapter will be stated at the beginning. 
> 
> Extreme love for our beta, dreamsofdramione, who took on no small amount of work in helping us with this project. She also created the wonderful story artwork for us. 
> 
> _In Dreams wrote this chapter._

* * *

Something was ringing. Obnoxious, incessant, and interolable. Hermione Granger wrenched herself from her bed, startled awake and rubbing at bleary eyes. She could hear the rush of heavy footfalls from the corridor beyond her flat and hurriedly shrugged on a jumper and jeans before rushing to the door, slipping her wand into her rear pocket.

Once in the corridor, the alarms were so loud they pervaded her skull. There were no signs of smoke, and as she peered in each direction, she noticed the lights were flickering before they went dark altogether.

She'd been up late preparing a report and subsequently had a lie-in, but it couldn't have been past half eight or nine in the morning.

From beyond the exterior walls, a loud rumbling warred with the screech of the alarms, jarring her mind and scattering her thoughts in every direction.

Hermione had experienced a lot of things, but this was new.

As her neighbour from down the hall raced past without stopping, her stomach lurched and spurred her into action. Without realising what was going on, she found herself racing for the stairs as a great, cacophonous eruption sounded, shaking the entire building on its foundation.

Eyes wide and heart racing in her chest, she chased blindly after her neighbour. The air tasted stale and acrid on her tongue, a thick haze of dust stinging her eyes.

On the ground floor, she nearly collided with her neighbour as the man stopped short and stared through a bank of windows, a shrewd look on his face.

"What's going on?" Hermione asked, breathless.

To her surprise, the man spun towards her, his expression that of bewilderment. "What do you mean, 'what's going on'? Have you been living under a rock?" His face shifted to a sneer of disdain. "This is obviously the work of the wizards."

Without saying anything more, the man withdrew a vicious-looking pistol, cocked it, and darted through the door, weapon held aloft before him.

For several long, disconcerting seconds, Hermione blinked at the door as it swung slowly closed. She sifted through the details, hoping with increasing futility that something would make sense.

Two more people that she didn't recognise rushed past, and Hermione jumped out of the way as one drew a wicked, curved sword from a sheath strapped to her back.

The woman's gaze flickered briefly to Hermione. "I'd get somewhere safe if I were you."

" _What_ —"

But the pair were gone.

Another loud collision came from somewhere nearby, rattling the building once more. Her sinuses burned from the haze, moisture breaking from her eyes. As a third eruption occurred from what felt like directly above her, sending a large chunk of the opposite wall crumbling, Hermione darted through the door and onto the street.

Instantly, her hand flinched towards her wand.

Her first thought was that she was still asleep but her dreams were never so lucid.

Unless she'd ingested something, of course. Ever since that time with the Daydream Charms, she hadn't quite trusted George Weasley not to tamper with her food or drink. But she hadn't seen George in weeks.

Despite the vast myriad of wild circumstances she now faced, what stood out the most was the giant crater in the middle of the road, stretching from one side of the walk to the other and the depth of several men.

Chaos extended on all sides, as far as she could see. A loud explosion came from inside of the building, and as she hastened away from her home, she watched with a cry of terror as the building collapsed in a heap of burning rubble.

It was only once she looked closer that Hermione realised she could see wandfire.

It was that thought alone, however minute it might have been in comparison to the chaotic destruction, that startled her beyond anything else. This was a _Muggle_ neighbourhood, hovering on the divide between Muggle and wizarding London.

But streaks of violet and crimson chased past as she stood frozen on the road. In a surreal moment, she saw several people rise from behind a pile of shrapnel, returning the attack with Muggle firearms.

There was _no way_ this had all occurred while she slept.

Hermione didn't even know how to rationalise what was going on. In the distance, a cloud of black smoke drifted from what must have been a large explosion of some sort.

From where she stood, she was almost entirely exposed. She ducked behind a heap of rubble, attempting to process her thoughts with a deep breath.

Muggles and wizards were attacking one another. Here, in the ruins of her building. Her home had just been destroyed in some sort of explosion. The only thing she had on her was her wand. The list of problems with the situation was endless and jarring.

Surely someone at the Ministry of Magic could explain what was happening. And even if not, she needed to get away from this warzone before she wound up caught in the crossfire.

Shifting so the nearby Muggles couldn't see her—she could see the woman with the curved sword loading a long hunting weapon—she spun on her heel and was gone.

As she arrived in Whitehall, Hermione's heart sunk, her blood running cold.

If she had hoped to find answers at the Ministry, those hopes were dashed in an instant. The building that served as an aboveground front for the network of bureaucratic channels beneath it was little more than smouldering ruins. She could see witches and wizards running in each direction, freely Disapparating, and drawing their wands in defense as Muggles ambushed them.

Gaping wordlessly, she watched the scene in mute horror, unable to dredge up any shred of a logical explanation.

_How long had she been asleep_?

It wasn't even a rational thought, but it was the only one lingering in the back of her mind.

The wild and blatant disregard for the Statute of Secrecy—the fact that Muggles and wizards were openly at war—left her rattled and disoriented.

A thrill crept down her spine as if she were being watched. Hermione drew her wand, clutching the thin vinewood with white knuckles as she slowly turned on the spot. A man emerged from some distance away in tattered robes, sighing a great breath of relief.

"Oh, thank Merlin, you're a witch," he said, shaking his head as he approached.

On gut instinct, Hermione tightened her hold on her wand. "What's going on here? What happened to the Ministry?" she hissed, desperation colouring her tone.

"We held it as long as we could, but… when they brought their powder bombs, it was all we could do to get most everyone out in time."

Despite the man's explanation, Hermione still couldn't make any sense of it. She could only manage a choked, " _Why_?"

The wizard made a face. Hermione vaguely thought she recognised him, but it was difficult to tell beneath the thick layer of dirt and dried blood on every inch of him. "What do you mean? It's clearly an act of retribution."

Blowing out a breath, Hermione pressed her fingers hard to her temple. "Retribution for _what_?"

But the man's eyes widened, and he ducked behind the remains of what looked as if it had once been an office building. Following after him, Hermione crouched down at his side.

"Why are the Muggles attacking? Forget that—how were they even able to _see_ the Ministry?"

The furrow of confusion on the man's face deepened, a heavy knit between his brows. "It isn't as if it's ever been hidden."

She opened her mouth, ready to contradict the man. The Ministry had been hidden from the view of Muggles ever since its establishment, along with the enactment of the Statute of Secrecy in 1692.

But he merely scowled, jumping once more to his feet. "We need to get out of here—a few wings of St Mungo's are still operating, and we'll need to recover the wounded here. Some poor delusional sods still think we can still reclaim the Ministry."

Before Hermione could ask any more of the seemingly infinite questions on the tip of her tongue, the man darted away, leaving her on her own.

Watching for an extended moment, she processed her options. If St Mungo's was operating, she could attempt to find answers there. She could Apparate to Grimmauld Place, or maybe The Burrow, and—

"Granger?"

Whirling on the spot, she met the startled grey eyes of Draco Malfoy. His pale hair was filthy and disheveled, and he appeared to be sporting a fresh wound to one leg; he dropped down beside her as if fatigued.

Just what she needed—another person who wasn't going to give her any information.

But he huffed a breath and shook his head with a grimace. "What the _bloody fuck_ is going on here?"

She froze. "You don't know?"

"No!" he exclaimed, disgruntled. "Everyone keeps acting like this is _normal_ or some bullshite? Since when have Muggles and wizards been openly at war?"

Staring at him for a long moment, searching his gaze, she finally breathed, "I don't know."

Malfoy frowned. "You don't know either?"

"No."

"You're the first, then." He peeled back the torn material of his trousers to inspect his injury. Despite herself, Hermione peered closer, wincing at the deep cut. Tapping his wand to the wound, Malfoy cursed, and the blood drained from his face, leaving him paler than usual. "Never was much for healing spells."

It certainly wasn't the strangest part of the situation, but Hermione had hardly spoken to Malfoy in years—in fact, she couldn't remember the last time they had even seen each other in passing. She supposed her equally oblivious understanding of the situation had somehow caused him to trust her.

Her thoughts lingered on the small beaded bag she used to carry with her, stashed away in her closet, which she hadn't thought to grab in the chaos of her unexpected wake-up call. Within it were a handful of healing vials, including a jar of Dittany.

"I don't know many either," she admitted, glancing around as spellfire and gunfire raged on beyond their moderate shelter. "I might be able to stem the bleeding, though, until you can get to a healer."

Malfoy's eyes snapped up to meet hers, and they tightened for a moment as he assessed her. Scowling, and teetering at the edge of her patience, she brandished her wand and proceeded to cast the spell without his permission.

She had no desire to spend any longer in his company than necessary, but he was the only person she had come across who didn't seem to think she was crazy for not knowing what was going on. Not that it was necessarily a good thing—but he was the closest thing to an ally she had for the time being.

He released a strangled sound as she tapped the edges of the wound with her wand, but bit down on whatever presumably impolite sentiments he would have otherwise spewed.

It wasn't perfect, and the deep gash remained, but the blood clotted, sealing the wound.

Malfoy offered a gruff, "Thanks."

With a stiff nod, she pocketed her wand. "I've heard St Mungo's has been damaged but remains partially functional."

"From the sound of it," Malfoy responded, adjusting the leg of his jeans once more, "they've got their hands full." He stared at her for a long moment, indecision warring in his stare. "How are we supposed to figure this out?"

Hermione pursed her lips, releasing a breath through her nose. "I don't even know what _this_ is. Or why you and I are the only people who are confused." Hesitating for a moment, she added, "I thought I'd gone crazy. Or entered a time warp or something."

With a dark chuckle, Malfoy said, "So did I. I'm not sure whether this is reassuring or not."

The distant sounds of gunfire drew near, and Malfoy rose to his feet, peering beyond their temporary shelter. "We won't be safe here for long."

Following his lead, Hermione fixed her gaze on the war-torn street. "I don't get the impression anywhere is safe right now."

She wasn't keen on the idea of being left alone again with such uncertainty. Malfoy was better than no one, but she wasn't going to ask him to stay with her. Hermione didn't trust him, but desperate times...

"Right," he drawled, shouldering a sturdy rucksack she hadn't noticed before. "Might be best if we stick together for now." He turned to her with a lifted, leading brow, and Hermione gave a noncommittal shrug.

"Fine by me," she said. "My building collapsed, and I wasn't able to grab anything."

Never mind that she blindly stumbled her way outside without even thinking of supplies. How was she to know what she'd be facing? And if she had spent any longer inside the building, she might have been caught in the blast.

"The Ministry's down." Malfoy scanned the street once more. "Mungo's is compromised. I think we can operate under the assumption that most of Britain is in the midst of this siege." He hesitated for a moment, rummaging through his pack. "I woke up to the Manor half destroyed in Wiltshire, so clearly this extends beyond London."

She frowned at the bleak assessment. "Have you been to Diagon Alley?"

"Yes," he mused, "a little over an hour ago. That was where I first heard talk of what's going on, but it hadn't been hit yet."

"Let's try there," Hermione breathed. "We'll be discovered soon."

Shifting his weight, Malfoy grimaced at the pressure on his bad leg, but he nodded. "It has to be better than here, right?"

Hermione didn't know how to answer that.

She merely said, "Come on," and took hold of his arm, pulling him into side-along Apparition.

The quiet in Diagon Alley felt like the calm before the storm. It was a warm Saturday morning, but the streets were empty, and their steps echoed insidiously on the cobbles as they walked down the abandoned path.

Most of the shops were closed, their shutters drawn and uninviting.

"Maybe Diagon will be fine since it's hidden beyond the Leaky," Malfoy postulated, favouring his good leg just a hint as they walked.

Leading them towards Gringotts, she frowned. "The man I spoke to before you found me made it sound as if the Ministry was never invisible to Muggles. As if the Statute of Secrecy simply didn't exist."

"Which could mean Diagon Alley isn't hidden at all," he muttered.

They both froze, staring one way down the length of the street then the other as if suddenly expecting someone to jump out at them. But then Malfoy snickered, and Hermione felt humour tug at her own lips.

"Let's carry on." She quickened her steps. "I need to withdraw some money, and we can see if there are any stores open where we can get supplies." With a grimace, she noted more of the shops were locked up than not. "It doesn't look good on that front. And then…"

"And then we need a plan to figure all this out," Malfoy grumbled, sweeping a dirty hand through his hair. "If there's some sort of war going on between magical and non-magical beings—that there was _no_ indication of before I went to sleep last night—this speaks to something deeper."

Hermione hesitated to bring up another glaring point but sighed, casting him a brief glance. "Especially since you and I are the only ones who don't know what's going on." Wrapping her arms around her front, she added, "As far as we know, anyways."

Gringotts looked abandoned, but they still proceeded with caution as they approached the entrance. Malfoy swung open the heavy door, gesturing for her to enter.

Belatedly, he responded, "It doesn't make any sense if it's only you and me. We haven't even seen one another in years."

Unable to dredge up an answer, she merely grimaced and approached the nearest wicket. Most were unoccupied. A small, elderly goblin eyed them with unveiled skepticism before he bit out, "Wand?"

Hermione passed her wand to the creature, unease churning in her stomach at the thought of being caught without it. Her eyes lingered on the door while they waited, and Malfoy shifted at her side.

After what felt like several minutes, the goblin returned her wand with narrowed eyes. "Follow me."

"I'll wait here," Malfoy suggested, though his words didn't carry their usual certainty. "Just don't take forever."

Though she valued her privacy and a part of her didn't want Malfoy to see the modest contents of her vault when his was most assuredly massive, she also didn't think it was in their best interests to split up. She was surprised that he had even offered to remain above ground.

She caught his eye for a moment. "It's probably best if we stick together. Just in case."

Malfoy only nodded, and the pair of them followed the goblin towards a small cart that would lead them into the bowels of the wizarding bank.

The pair of them crammed onto the back bench, Malfoy's thigh pressing against her own. Hermione kept her gaze fixed ahead as she allowed her mind to drift in the first moments of calm and silence since she had awoken that morning.

She was, for all intents and purposes, homeless. Her complex had gone down in a series of explosions, but in the back of her mind, she thought again of that small beaded bag that had once acted as her lifeline. It still contained many useful items, including the Dittany that could heal Malfoy's leg if his injury grew worse, and the fabric was imbued with numerous protective enchantments. It might have survived the collapse if she could get to it.

Malfoy didn't react when the cart came to an abrupt stop not far below the earth, and she found herself grateful for the absence of his particular brand of spite she had known so well in school at the relative youth of her personal vault. He waited on the landing while she transfigured a small chest within into a pack of her own and filled it with enough Galleons to last her for a while before slinging it onto her back.

The goblin looked anxious, pacing the landing, before he ushered them quickly back into the cart.

Casting a wary glance towards the goblin, Malfoy ducked in and spoke in a quiet voice. "We shouldn't stay here longer than necessary if Diagon is likely to become a warzone, too. We're going to need a better plan."

"The only place I can think of going is Harry's," Hermione admitted, worrying her bottom lip. She expected Malfoy to instantly dismiss the thought, but he only shrugged.

"Provided Potter wasn't digging people out at the Ministry."

Managing a thick swallow, she attempted to push the thought from her mind.

Shaking her head, Hermione clipped, "He wasn't."

The words came out with more certainty than she had expected, and Malfoy nodded.

"I suppose it doesn't hurt to see if we can find anyone else who doesn't know what's going on. There has to be some sort of connection." He sat in silence for a moment, his expression pensive. "For instance, what did you do last night?"

Hermione felt colour sting her cheeks as she frowned. "I was up late finalising a report."

"On a Friday?" Malfoy snickered but only shook his head. "I was out for a drink at the Leaky—and I can assure you there were no indications of _this_."

It felt like an adequate summation of the situation, though she still failed to make any sense of it.

"You're right though," she mused, staring idly at the corner of their cart as it rumbled back up towards the lobby of the bank. "There has to be _some reason_ why you and I have been dropped into this scenario."

"Merlin," Malfoy huffed with a bit of a chuckle. "I suppose I should be grateful I stumbled across you, because if anyone's likely to figure this out, I expect it'll be you."

Once more, a flush swelled in her cheeks, but this time it was at the unexpected compliment.

Before she could say anything in return, however, their cart came to a jarring halt, rattling on its rails, and the goblin leapt from his seat, leaving Hermione and Malfoy to follow along back towards the main atrium of the bank.

Even the few goblins that had been present when they arrived were gone, and Hermione frowned as they made their way through the door. She squinted into the sudden brightness of the sun, her vision having grown accustomed to the darkness of the underground channels in Gringotts, but before she could take a step farther—

A deafening explosion rocked the ground, and she was knocked from her feet as Malfoy took hold of her shoulders and yanked her roughly aside.

Hermione landed hard on her tailbone with a cry, the impact shooting pain up the length of her spine and into a searing ache in her skull.

Releasing a string of curses, Malfoy scrunched his face into a grimace as he released her, untangling their legs where they had landed in a heap.

Reeling at the suddenness of the attack, Hermione gaped around but couldn't see an assailant. "Explosives," she breathed, "either fired, or timed, or—"

"Rigged to the movement of the door, maybe," Malfoy muttered with a frown, twisting his wrist in the other hand. "Which means we need to move. Can you stand?"

Hermione stared at him for a prolonged moment, the fact that he had pulled her out of the blast overtaking every other thought. A breath hitched in her throat, and she whispered, "Thank you." Then, shaking her head, she steadied herself against the damaged marble of the bank, rising carefully to her feet with a stiff nod.

"Right," he said as he followed her lead, gingerly placing pressure on his bad leg. The wound had split again, a fresh trail of blood breaking free once more. "Evidently, Diagon Alley is no longer safe."

"I still don't see anyone." Hermione's eyes skirted the shadows along the shops where it would be easy to hide. Her gaze caught on a small, dingy looking shop, one of the only ones that wasn't boarded up tight. Nodding at it, she glanced at Malfoy. "There."

Upon his brief affirmation, they hastily snuck towards the shop, wands held aloft, and slipped inside. Malfoy cast a series of locking charms on the door while the shopkeep approached, a heavy furrow in his wizened brow. "What in the blazes is going on out there? Those blasted Muggles again?" He waved a hand, as if he couldn't be bothered, before tottering to the register.

Hermione stowed her disappointment that yet another person seemed to understand the situation when they didn't, and in an unspoken agreement, she and Malfoy split up. It was a small general purpose store, the shelves lined mostly with odd bits and pieces, but a few items jumped out at her. Thinking back to her survival training she'd learned as a child, Hermione collected some supplies. A multi-purpose knife, a magical lighter with numerous settings, some packs of dried food, and a few other things she thought might come in handy.

They didn't really have any idea what they were up against, and she didn't have a lot of time to think.

They reconvened at the register several minutes later, and as Hermione scrounged in her pack for a handful of Galleons, another loud explosion erupted just outside, rattling the windows.

The eyes of the shopkeep widened in alarm, and he looked quickly between them. "Take it and get out!" Then he hobbled up a staircase behind him, leaving them alone.

Malfoy wasted no time shrinking his purchases and stowing them in his pack. He slammed a handful of coins down on the counter, and snapped his head towards the door. Hermione followed suit, slipping her bag onto her shoulders once more, and peered through the window. Still, she could see no one on the high street, and they exchanged a quick glance.

It didn't make sense that they had no visual on anyone in the street, the explosions happening seemingly at random.

A quiet tension hung between them when Hermione looked at Malfoy. "Please tell me you've worked out a plan."

His face twisted into a scowl. "You're the smart one."

"And _you_ are the clever, self-serving one."

"I resent that," Malfoy muttered, but there was no ire in his tone as he peered down the street from the corner of the window. "And besides, loath as I am to admit it, your idea held merit. We need to find someone who can explain the situation—and who isn't going to treat us as if we're insane."

"You _actually_ want to go see Harry?" she asked, brows high on her forehead. "You _must_ be desperate." When he didn't respond, Hermione nodded. "Well, fine. But I'd like to make a stop along the way."

Malfoy spun on her, irritation flashing on his face. "This is no time for—"

The words were cut off by another explosion, this one close enough to send a great crack spidering through the far window of the small shop. Hermione leapt back, her heart pounding with adrenaline. And then she saw them—a large group headed their way, brandishing Muggle weapons.

Even if Hermione wanted to fight Muggles—which she _didn't_ , having no understanding of the situation—they were vastly outnumbered.

Malfoy's startled grey eyes met hers; there was no time to argue, and she grabbed hold of his arm, spinning the pair of them into Apparition.

The jerk of the travel was significant enough to remind Hermione she hadn't eaten since the night before, and her vision swam for a moment when they landed just inside of what had once been the multi-storey car park across the road from Hermione's residential complex. Now, it was a small section of covered concrete that still stood while the rest had crumbled, vehicles scattered around as burnt heaps of shrapnel.

Malfoy looked around quickly, wand brandished before him tightly enough for his knuckles to whiten.

"I just need to grab something," Hermione hissed, crouching down to observe the mayhem she had left behind earlier. Ignoring Malfoy's frustrated huff, she crept towards the entrance, peering out into the road. The battle raged as it had hours ago, although the carnage was significantly heavier.

Swallowing back her nausea, Hermione attempted to keep from lingering on the unmoving forms littering the ground.

"This has to be a nightmare," she whispered, and Malfoy's expression softened as he crouched down alongside her.

"A nightmare," he echoed, hesitating. "Merlin, we could be in some fucked up alternate timeline. Who the hell knows what's going on here?" A sharp string of staccato gunfire sounded, and they both flinched. "Just hurry up and get what you need. I'll cover you."

Hermione stared at her former home, pushing back the rising of emotion in her chest. They had run out of time to worry about the sentiment of it; they were in danger just by being there. Jets of light shot past, and they both ducked back into the car park.

"I just need to get close enough to summon it," she mused. " _Accio_ beaded bag!"

Another string of gunfire sounded while they stood, hesitant. They were too exposed, and the sooner they could get out of the area, the better it would be. But there was important medicine in that bag, and the apothecary had been sealed shut.

Not that they could have attempted to access it anyways with the arrival of that large group of Muggles.

The beaded bag whizzed into her hand at last, and Hermione released a great sigh of relief, tucking it into her transfigured rucksack as she held her wand between her teeth.

"Granger!" Malfoy cried, and she spun. " _Stupefy_!"

With a loud thud, a man dropped to the ground.

But he hadn't been alone. Swinging the pack onto her back, Hermione took her wand back into her trembling hand, stunning several more armed Muggles flowing towards them. At the loud snap of a bullet, Hermione shoved Malfoy out of the way of the opening, the pair of them retreating and ducking behind the remnants of a concrete pillar.

Misfiring a spell, Hermione watched as the jet of light collided with a chunk of wall, exploding in a shower of dust and debris. In the brief moment of her distraction, she just barely dodged a knife as it grazed her temple, the owner of the blade screaming her aggression.

On instinct, Hermione swung a wild fist, knocking the girl back, whose eyes rolled as her head met with the hard ground.

In the sudden silence, Malfoy gaped at her. "Nice swing, Granger."

Her chest heaved with the rush of the fight, and Hermione counted eight unconscious Muggles around them. They shared a grimace, and Hermione sucked in a deep, unsteady breath. "We'd better be gone by the time they wake up."

"Just a minute." Toeing the nearest man onto his stomach, Malfoy relieved him of his weapon, a sharp-edged katana, and slipped the sheathed sword onto his own back with a hint of a smirk. "He's not going to need this."

Although Hermione's first instinct was to scowl at his blatant theft, she realised with a heavy heart that these Muggles had sought to kill them—and would do so likewise to any other witches and wizards they came across.

It was in that vein of consideration that she helped herself to any good supplies she could find from the Muggles' packs, vanishing the rest, and selected a few additional weapons to stow in her bag and on her person. She had no interest in shooting a gun and vanished the ones she came across, although she noticed Malfoy had one holstered to his belt when they met up once more.

The cut on her head stung, but it wasn't deep, and she wasn't eager to linger any longer than necessary. Now that they had Dittany, they'd be able to see to their wounds once they landed somewhere safe.

Hermione found herself hoping with a deep, unspoken desperation that Harry's house would be that place.

"Are you ready?" she asked, drawing a deep breath to steady her nerves.

Malfoy's gaze lingered on her temple; she swiped absently at the fresh blood still leaking from it, attempting to put the experience from her mind, and he nodded, offering his arm. "Let's go."

Taking solace in the thought that they were in agreement on the course of action, she took a firm hold of his hand, and Apparated to number twelve Grimmauld Place.

A heavy breath of relief choked from her lungs when they landed to see the house and neighbourhood unscathed. Even Malfoy blew out a breath with a steadying nod. His lips twitched with a hint of humour. "Potter had better be able to explain what's going on here."

"I'm sure he will," she breathed, taking a careful step towards the house, and ringing the bell. "He'll believe us. Well, _me_ , anyway."

Malfoy snickered.

They waited for a prolonged moment—long enough for doubt to begin to settle in, stretching the fragile thread of her hope—until the door finally swung inwards.

Harry Potter stood in the doorway looking worse for wear, and he wore a deep scowl at the sight of her. A thick white bandage was wrapped around his head, filthy and blood-stained.

A frisson of fear prickled along the edges of her nerves, and Hermione nearly recoiled as Harry cursed under his breath, checking the timepiece on his wrist. "Where the hell have you been?" he bit out, looking irritable. "You were supposed to check in hours ago. We've been bloody beside ours—"

Harry cut himself off mid-tirade, his jaw dropping when he noticed Malfoy standing a little behind her on the stoop.

"Harry," Hermione began, as evenly as possible, "we need your help. This isn't going to make any sense, but I need you to listen and—"

As if he'd ignored her entirely, Harry wheeled on Malfoy, stomping out onto the step and jamming a finger into Malfoy's chest. "You've got a lot of nerve, showing up here in the middle of the day!" he shouted before turning back to Hermione, brow heavy with anger. "What were you thinking?"

"We've been working together," she pressed, ignoring Malfoy's unimpressed stare. "I need you to explain everything that's going on because—"

"What's going on?!" Harry exclaimed, a tic pulsing in his jaw. "Just ask _this_ prick!"

Malfoy's brows shot up with alarm, and before either of them could speak, Harry drew his wand and carried on.

"He's the reason we're all in this mess to begin with!"


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Floorcoaster wrote this chapter._

Harry scowled and opened the door. "Get in here."

Hermione and Draco exchanged a surprised, troubled look. Draco motioned for Hermione to go first, and she could feel Harry's anger rising. Grimmauld Place looked mostly the same as she remembered it. She wanted to clear the air with Harry as quickly as possible, but he started in on them before he'd even closed the door.

"What the hell were you thinking, Malfoy? You specifically went against orders and, like always, you just did what you wanted to do!" Harry got in Draco's face, fire in his eyes. "Why can't you just follow orders like you're told? Doing whatever the fuck you want is how people die, Malfoy!"

Hermione put her hand on Harry's arm, but he jerked out of her hold and rounded on her. "And you! I thought you hated working with him! We had a plan! But you two have botched it! What do you have to say for yourself?"

She'd never heard Harry speak quite so harshly, but then, she had no idea what was going on. "Harry, I need you to listen to me."

He glared at her, breathing very hard, and seemed ready to yell at them again, but then he balled his fists and let out a string of curses. "Fine. Out with it." He crossed his arms over his chest in obvious annoyance.

Hermione sent Draco a sideways glance. He unhelpfully shrugged. "Harry, this is going to sound completely crazy, but I need you to listen to me. To _really_ hear me. Alright? Do you promise to do that?"

He snorted but eventually nodded.

"We've been through some strange things, you and I." She took a deep breath. "But this will probably be the strangest. Harry, Malfoy and I… we aren't from here. We have no idea what's going on. We both just… appeared here somehow. After being up too late last night writing a report, I woke up to sounds of explosions outside my flat. Explosions, Harry! In London! And then I made my way outside, watching other people openly carrying guns and pistols and swords. Swords! And I could see the lights from spells, and it quickly became obvious that wizards were fighting Muggles. But when I went to bed last night, Harry, the International Statute of Secrecy was still firmly in place."

Harry scrunched up his nose. "The what?"

"Bloody hell," Draco muttered.

"Somehow, I have no idea how, Draco and I were taken from where we were and brought here. My guess is that we were exchanged with the Hermione and Draco you know. It's all very theoretical, but as part of my work in the Department of Mysteries, I've been reading about this lately—about parallel universes—and that's my best guess for what has happened. Though… I have no idea how or _why_."

Harry was still scowling but something in his eyes had lightened slightly. "The Department of Mysteries? What's that?"

She felt a brief well of panic but pushed it aside. "Nevermind that. Tell us what's happening, Harry. Why are wizards and Muggles fighting?"

"You really don't know?" Harry's eyes widened when she shook her head. "You expect me to believe this? What if you were captured and they're making you say these things?"

Hermione took his hands in hers and pleadingly looked him in the eyes. "Harry, if we're friends here in this place at all, you _have_ to trust me."

Harry glanced warily from her to Draco and then back. "All right. I'll go along with this. What do you want to know again? Why we're fighting Muggles?"

"Yes. Start there please."

He motioned for them to go into the sitting room, and Hermione winced, noticing Draco favoring his hurt leg. Everyone got as comfortable as they could, and Draco remained standing, his wand hanging loosely in his hand.

"I suppose the simple answer to your question is because of Voldemort."

At that, both Hermione and Draco gaped at him. "What?"

"You really don't know, do you? Well, yeah, he got it in his head—oh, what, twenty-some years ago?—that England would be better off without Muggles. He's been building an army ever since. A lot of wizards agree with him. Muggle-wizarding relations have been on a steady decline ever since Grindelwald joined up with Hitler, and Voldemort has just made everything deteriorate exponentially, especially in the last ten years. He's recruited witches and wizards from all over Europe to his side, and even from farther corners of the world. London is the epicenter of the war, but there are battles being fought across the globe."

It was a lot to take in, but Hermione knew it was only the beginning. "I see. And, um, what side are you on? Is there an Order?"

Relief flashed across Harry's face. "You know about the Order."

"We had one where I'm from. It was started by—"

"Albus Dumbledore!" Harry jumped up and clapped his hands. "Yes! Many years ago. I'm in the Order! We're trying to work against Voldemort while also not being killed by Muggles. It's a very precarious position to be in, but Dumbledore feels strongly that if we can establish strong relationships with Muggles and work _with_ them against Voldemort, we can regain much of the trust that has been lost between our two kinds."

"I'm sorry." Draco cleared his throat. "Did you just say Dumbledore _feels_ strongly? As in, right now? Today?"

Hermione turned to him and saw his blank expression; she knew he had to be feeling all kinds of conflicting emotions.

Harry looked between them, then fixed a rigid stare at Draco. "Um, yes. He's the leader of our movement. I just saw him last night—when he ordered _you_ to stay put."

Draco swallowed hard and returned to looking out the window.

She couldn't even begin to wrap her mind around all of the things that could be different here. She'd have to try to sort that out later.

Then Harry looked at her again. "Wait, you said you _had_ an Order where you're from."

"Yes. But it was no longer needed once Voldemort was defeated."

The air seemed to deflate out of Harry and he sank into an armchair. "Defeated?" His voice was barely above a whisper. "How?"

Hermione sat down on the nearest chair to her friend. " _You_ defeated him, Harry. At least, the Harry where we're from did."

His eyes went wide with horror. "Me? But… but why?"

"He killed your parents," she said softly.

"My… my parents?" Hermione nodded. Harry glanced towards where Hermione knew the staircase was. "Mum's upstairs. Dad… died a few years ago, on a mission. But it wasn't Voldemort. I have two siblings."

Tears immediately sprang to Hermione's eyes and she smiled, squeezing his hand. "Oh, Harry. I've never met your parents. And my Harry was an only child, raised by his aunt and uncle."

He shook his head, probably having a difficult time contemplating what she had told him. "You're telling me that _I_ killed him? The most evil wizard in the history of the world? Me?"

"Yes! Yes, Harry, and you were amazing. Ron and I were with you the whole way—well, except for when Ron was a giant prat and left us—but other than that." She gasped, covering her mouth with both hands. "Harry, Ron. Is he—"

"Right here!"

Everyone looked up to see Ron standing in the doorway. He had a goofy grin on his face, despite the small cut over his left eye, and a heavy backpack on his back. He gave Draco a funny look but quickly crossed to Hermione, pulled her to her feet, and kissed her.

Hermione squealed and pushed him away. She heard Draco snort.

"Ron, no, stop." Harry pulled his friend back, to Ron's obvious displeasure.

"I haven't seen her in a week, Harry!"

"This isn't Hermione. At least, not your Hermione." Harry ran his hands through his hair. "That kiss sealed it. Just… have a seat, will you? And listen?"

Ron eyed everyone suspiciously, then did as Harry instructed. "What's going on?"

Harry quickly filled Ron in on what Hermione had told him, and Hermione watched as Ron's expression became more and more astonished. When he finished, Ron looked at her with wide eyes.

"So you're… you're not… with me? Um, wherever you're from?"

Hermione bit her lip and shook her head. "Well, no. Er, we tried? But it didn't last. We're still very good friends, however."

Ron nodded thoughtfully. "Who are you with then?" His gaze darted to Draco, clearly worried about her answer.

"Nobody at present," she said stiffly.

Harry waved his hand. "We need to go back to something you said earlier. Are you telling me you know how to defeat Voldemort?"

"It's possible." She shrugged. "I'd need a lot of information, probably access to a library, and oh! Is there a Hogwarts here?"

"Are you sure she's not our Hermione?" Ron gave Harry a skeptical look.

"Yes, there's a Hogwarts. How else would all the magical people around here learn magic?" Harry chuckled as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Hermione was hit with the realization that _this_ Harry was so much different. He had grown up in the magical world, had known his parents, and likely had no experience with the Muggle world at all. His parents also hadn't died to save him, so he didn't have the special protection afforded by his mother's sacrifice. Therefore, _this_ Harry had no Horcrux embedded in his soul. A flick of her gaze to his forehead revealed no lightning bolt scar.

"I'll need a copy of _Hogwarts: A History_ if you've one to spare."

Ron snorted. "Really, Hermione, I think this has gone on long enough, yeah? Give it a rest. Let's go have a snack and you can tell me about what I've missed while I was away." He stood and made a move towards the kitchen. "I think I smell a meat pie."

"I don't think she's lying, Ron." Harry was peering at her with extreme interest. "But if I know anything, it's that _any_ Hermione will help us figure this out."

"What about him?" Ron jabbed his thumb in Draco's direction.

"We don't know much about him, unfortunately," Harry said. "So come sit down, Ron. Your snack can wait."

Ron grumbled but did as Harry said.

"So the both of you just… found yourselves… where?" Harry asked. "You said you were in your flat, Hermione. What about you, Malfoy?"

"Home. In my bed at the Manor. Or, at least, what was left of it. I think the draft woke me, and I found myself in what used to be my bedroom, though two of the walls were missing."

Harry nodded. "Malfoy Manor was destroyed years ago."

Draco gripped his wand so tightly his knuckles turned white. "Potter. My… my parents."

Harry had the grace to look down. "They're dead. Your Father… he was one of Voldemort's top generals, but he was killed by Voldemort a few years ago. Your Mother died a long time ago, not long after you were born. We don't really know the details, you—or, rather, our Draco—never talked about it much."

"Bellatrix?" he asked through gritted teeth.

"She's his second in command."

Draco nodded, taking it all in. "Are there… Death Eaters?"

Harry blinked. "Yes, there are, though not many people know about them. They're Voldemort's elite squad of fighters."

"And… me? I mean, the other Draco? He works with you?"

"After Voldemort killed your father, you left them and joined us, offered us all the intelligence you could give, and vowed to fight against him until you either killed him or died trying."

Hermione noticed that Draco absently rubbed the arm she knew bore his Mark.

"You said I left them. Was I—he—one of them?"

"Yes. He was brutal and efficient, raised as a soldier. He was a Death Eater. I've always suspected there was more to the story than he told us, but he took a Vow, with Dumbledore himself, so we've had no choice but to trust him. That was… what, Ron, three years ago?"

Ron nodded. "Bloody hell, this is bizarre." He slumped down further in his chair. "I mean, how do we know this isn't the Draco from here? He looks the same. He's got a sword and two—no, three—guns." Ron pointed at each as he counted. "I'm sure there are at least as many knives hidden on his person."

Draco pulled one of the guns out and, to the horror of everyone in the room, waved it around. "Weasley, I have no idea how to use this thing."

"Put it away!" Harry shouted, ducking at the barrel swept his way.

Hermione gently put her hand on Draco's wrist and lowered the weapon. "Guns are extremely dangerous and lethal."

"I know," he said with a scowl. "I saw plenty of evidence of that earlier."

Ron crossed the room and took the gun, checking the safety and status of the clip. "Not bad. Where did you get it if you haven't had it this whole time? I'll admit, it's not the gun you— _he_ —usually favors."

"We got into a scuffle with some Muggles," Hermione explained.

Harry looked alarmed. "Did you kill any?"

"No, we just Stunned them, then took everything we thought might be useful." Hermione brandished an impressive dagger.

"Good," said Ron. "We don't kill Muggles in the Order, unless we have no other choice. Not even the ones who try to kill us."

Hermione nodded. "I imagine that would make it hard to earn their trust."

"What about us? Or, our counterparts?" Draco interrupted. "You said Draco disobeyed an order from Dumbledore?"

Ron's eyes went wide. "Oh, I've missed a lot."

Harry sighed. "Yes. You— _he_ —has been working with our research department on a device that can detect very faint traces of magic. Your team had finished a prototype and you wanted to test it last night. Dumbledore said it was too soon, that it needed more research, but you were convinced that a success would help us greatly in this war. I don't really know what he did, I only know the device is now missing from our lab. And, no offense, but it would be very much like him to take it and test it without anyone knowing."

"Do you know where I would have tested it?" Draco asked. "He, I mean. Where he would have tested it."

Harry shook his head. "Honestly, I think you're the best judge of that."

"I don't know if any of this matters or not." Draco frowned. "Where is this lab? Can I see what he was working on? Are there plans or anything?"

"The lab is underground, beneath this house. This is our headquarters and has been for decades." Harry swept his hand around to indicate the entire house. "But he took the device with him last night."

"Are Hermione and I friends here?"

Both Harry and Ron laughed so loud and long that tears streamed out of Ron's eyes. "That… was… brilliant… mate!"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "All right. It's nothing much different where we're from."

Ron wiped his eyes and grinned at her. "You two loathe each other here. Beyond anything anyone has ever seen. It's truly frightening."

Harry stopped laughing though and turned thoughtful. "That may be so, but our Hermione is always fair. And she sided with Draco last night about testing the device. I wonder… Do you know if there are any other magical people in your building, Hermione?"

She shook her head. "No, I've no way to know who lives there over here."

Harry stood and began to pace. "I'm almost certain you're the only witch who lives there. If that's true, and let's assume for now that it is, then it's highly possible she and Draco took the device to her building in order to test it."

"So whatever brought us here might be connected to that device?" she asked, her mind spinning.

"I have no idea, but it's a start." Harry looked at Draco. "What do you do over there? Do you think you'd be any help looking at the lab where our Draco worked?"

Draco appeared slightly uncomfortable. "I doubt it. I'm afraid I work for my father. It's a rather boring job, if I'm honest. But it allows me the life of leisure I'm accustomed to."

Hermione barked a laugh. "He doesn't do much of anything, really. He's a regular feature in Witch Weekly as they debate his latest fashion choices and who he's dating each week."

Draco scowled at her while Harry and Ron gaped.

Ron threw up his hands. "Fucking great. You're basically useless."

"He's not useless," Harry countered. "He's still a Malfoy. He can still pretend he knows what he's doing."

Hermione had to stifle a laugh. Harry was still just Harry, and that was some comfort in this crazy situation. "I'm sorry, Draco. I couldn't help it." She looked back at her friends, then a thought struck her. "Oh! Ron! Your family!"

"Yeah? What about them?" His eyes held a weariness.

She bit her lip, realizing she didn't want to ask specifically about every member of his family, wishing she hadn't brought them up at all. What if they were all dead? What if someone he loved had just died?

"How are they?" She cringed.

Ron shrugged. "They're all right. We miss Dad, but everyone else is fine. Bill's on assignment, Percy's still deep undercover, Fred and George—"

"Fred!" Hermione gasped, eyes wide. "Are they… do they like to play jokes?"

Harry chuckled and Ron rolled his eyes. "They're the worst. They can be so inappropriate at times."

"We need to laugh, Ron." Harry clapped his friend on the back. "I know they're your brothers, and so you can't officially like them too much, but I am thankful for the levity they provide."

"Ginny?" Hermione said hesitantly. "Charlie?"

Ron frowned. "Ginny is fine. Who's Charlie?"

Hermione shook her head. "Nobody here, I suppose."

"Enough of this," Draco said grumpily. "It doesn't sound like we have much time for this fascinating conversation."

She nodded, anxious to move away from potential ghosts. "Anyway, Draco is not useless. He and I were always very competitive in our classes, and I'm sure we can find some use for him."

Draco glared and seemed about to speak when Harry hushed them.

"That's enough. You two are really no different than our pair." Harry glanced at his watch. "Unfortunately, we've had a mission planned for a few weeks now that involves you two— _them_. There's a very dangerous, very militant group of Muggles who we fear are developing some new technology for detecting magic. It's why Draco was working on his device; he wanted a way to counteract theirs. It's something of a race around here. If they can find magical traces, they can locate and target us much easier. We need a way to either disable their device or counter it, and that's what you two— _they_ —were going to do today. In just under two hours. We've got a prep meeting in thirty minutes with the key players on our side."

"Is it dangerous?" Hermione asked.

"What does that matter?" Draco gave her a sharp look. "We need to get out of here. Go back where we came from. Not run around in some business that's not ours and potentially get ourselves killed."

"And just how do you propose we do that?" Hermione huffed. "We don't know anything about how or why this happened. We might be stuck here."

She'd said it just to argue with him, but the reality hit her like a ton of bricks. They might actually be stuck. Here. In the middle of this war zone. In a fight that wasn't theirs. In a world they barely recognized.

Draco's face drained of colour and he shook his head. "No. I won't believe that. I'm not useless—" He sent a glare in Ron's direction. "—and I believe that I can at least offer some insight into the device. He and I probably think a lot alike, so I'd just need to apply myself."

"If we don't keep this meeting with the Muggles, we'll lose our chance of ever getting another one. You two were going to go undercover, try to infiltrate them in order to learn what they're working on. We've been planning this mission for months." Harry frowned.

"Why can't they just go?" Ron pointed to Hermione and Draco.

Harry checked his watch again. "There's a lot you've missed on this, Ron. Our pair have already met with someone on the inside, someone named Troy. We'll go over everything in the meeting. We can't send someone new, but I don't know what to do until we know more or it could be really dangerous for them. I don't know who we could ask. Mum's upstairs, but she's sleeping. I can't even ask Dumbledore because he's unreachable on an assignment."

"What about Remus? Sirius?" Ron suggested.

Hermione's heart leapt a thousand times at hearing these names. She looked at Harry, though of course it was nothing special to him.

"Sirius will be here for the prep meeting, as will Tonks, Gideon, and Alice. We may have no choice but to wait until then." The worried expression on Harry's face told Hermione he wasn't thrilled with this plan.

Ron turned back to Hermione. "If you're anything like our Hermione, you can do this." He glanced up at Draco. "And if you're half as bat-shit crazy as our Draco, we've got a chance to pull this off."

Hermione looked over her shoulder to see Draco frowning deeply. She stood and went to him, speaking quietly so that only he could understand her. "Listen, Draco. I know this is… insane. But you're on their side. Or, he is, and you have a chance to help right now. After we do this one little thing, we can focus on getting home. I'm sorry that we're stuck here, that you've been thrown in with me and them, but at least we're where we should be, where our other selves would have been. This is the best place to be in order to get back."

He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "You're right. You're absolutely right. But, Granger, this isn't me. This was never me. Maybe this is him, but…." He shook his head. "Weasley's right, I'm practically useless."

"You're not." She put her hand on his arm and looked him in the eye. "This is an impossible situation, but you are a survivor. You made it through the war, and you're a Slytherin, for fuck's sake. Self-preservation is what you do. You've had your moment to feel sorry for yourself, and now it's time to suck it up and do what needs to be done. Help me help them, and then I'll help you with the device."

Draco clenched his jaw, and she could see the battle waging in his eyes. After a moment, he gave her a curt nod. "Fine. I'm in."

"Thank you, Draco." Hermione shot him a small smile before she turned back to Harry and Ron. "What's involved in this mission?" The two men exchanged a knowing look. "What?"

Harry was all business. "Well, you'll get most of the mission details at the meeting, but the most important thing we can do right now is test your skills with the weapons you're holding. I trust you're already more than competent with your wands, but have either of you used a gun before?"

They both shook their heads.

"Can't be helped. Hopefully they won't require target practice out of you. Our Hermione was chosen for this mission because she's Muggle-born and grew up mostly in the Muggle world. Though, of course, they're very interconnected here, which I'm gathering isn't the case where you're from. You'll have to pretend you're Muggles, of course. Our Draco was obviously part of this because he had the best working knowledge of his own device and the theory behind what they're trying to do. Plus, as Ron said, he's a bit crazy. We trusted Hermione completely with him."

"Not all of us," Ron grumbled, glaring out the window.

"She felt completely safe, Ron. We had to trust her." Harry pulled his gun from its holster and pointed to each feature as he listed them. "Trigger. Squeeze that to shoot. Clip goes in here. Slide back to cock. You have to hold it like you know what you're doing. The other Hermione and Draco had it all worked out, what they were going to do. We didn't get all the details, but…"

Hermione swallowed hard. The ease with which Harry handled the weapon was both alarming and sobering. "Will I have to shoot one?"

"We certainly hope not, but if you don't know what you're doing with one, they'll know something's wrong." He jerked a shoulder towards the back door. "We can go outside to practice a bit. Merida would be ideal to teach you, but she's not here, and I think it would be best if as few people as possible know the truth about you two."

After healing Draco's leg, Harry and Ron led them to the back garden, where they spent twenty minutes going over the guns Draco had salvaged. Then Ron retrieved two dull swords from a chest by the house. "We use these for practice."

Draco took his scabbard off and set it down, accepting one of the dull swords from Ron and eyeing him skeptically. To Hermione's immense surprise, he set his feet wide, as though he knew what he was doing. Without a word, Ron lunged forward. Draco blocked the stroke easily, and Ron's eyes widened. They continued to fight, and Hermione could see that every few moves, Ron increased his intensity. He'd started off going easy on Draco, expecting that he wouldn't know anything, but he'd had to gradually up his game to fend off Draco's blows.

Finally, Ron bested him, but they were both sweating and breathing heavily. "Thought you… were useless."

Draco smirked. "I took fencing for eight years. I suppose it gave me some skill. Never would have imagined I'd use it, though. I'll have to thank my mother for the lessons."

"Don't thank her yet," Ron said with a wry grimace. "I still beat you, and I'm not nearly the best we've got."

"Now what?" Hermione still dreaded the thought of having to carry a weapon—a _gun_ —on a mission.

Just then, a voice bellowed from inside the house. "Where's my favorite godson?"

Harry and Ron exchanged a look, then Harry turned to Hermione. "Remember, nobody can know that you're not… you know, them."

"Exactly how are we supposed to pass that off?" She tried but failed to keep her voice from rising.

Reality was really beginning to sink in. They were being sent on a mission they knew nothing about, to find out information on a device they'd never seen, in a universe where they didn't belong.

"Whoa. Steady there."

She felt strong arms grab her as the world tilted away and she fell against a firm body. Ron's immediate reaction was to reach for her, then glower at Draco, then roll his eyes as he remembered, yet again, that she was not his Hermione.

Draco gently lowered her to the ground. "Put your head between your knees and take deep breaths."

He rubbed her back absently while Hermione concentrated on not panicking. It didn't work. "We fought our war," she said in a harsh whisper she hoped only he could hear. "We've done our part. We went through hell and I don't—I don't know if I can do it again!"

"Do you remember what you said to me when I was feeling overwhelmed?"

She nodded numbly. "Kind of."

"Well. It was exactly what I needed to hear, but I'm not going to say anything like it. You're a Gryffindor. Isn't this, like, what you lot live for? So, get up, strap on your big girl pistol, and let's do this. The only way out is through, Granger. We can do this, we just have to get the intel, come back, then go home."

"But—" She lifted her head to argue with him, to tell him that this whole situation was nowhere near as simple as he made it sound and that they were in _way_ over their heads. She was usually over-prepared for any type of foolhardy scenarios she found herself in but that was impossible for this one and—

Draco put a finger to her lips.

"No. We survive this. That's what _I_ do. When there's no plan, not enough information, not enough time, not enough _anything,_ I survive. And you have to survive with me because if I go back without you, Potter and Weasley will skin me alive and then slowly kill me. Which doesn't square with everything I said about me surviving."

She managed a small smile and realized, with a jolt, that he was close— _very_ close. She could see the concern etched on his face, the crease of his brow, the line of his lips. But then the overwhelming feelings hit her again and she went back to taking deep, steadying breaths. Draco resumed rubbing her back, and unconsciously, she leaned into his touch. She sensed more than heard the others approach, but Draco shooed them away. After what felt like a few minutes, she started to feel better.

"I'm all right." She made to stand, but Draco leapt to his feet and helped her, propping her up with his arm.

"You sure?" His eyes searched hers, and she was surprised at how attentive he was being, how concerned he was over her. Most likely it was his self-preservation kicking in; he wasn't wrong in what he'd said about returning without her.

"Yes." Hermione nodded. "Thank you, though." She looked up at the back face of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, her thoughts flitting through the many memories she had of the former headquarters of the Order. "Let's get to it."

* * *

"Granger!"

Hermione blinked, startled out of the rush of things she was feeling: anxiety, fear, doubt, sheer terror.

"Sorry," she muttered. "What were you saying?"

They were standing in the middle of the woods after being Portkeyed in by the Order. Their mission was to walk a few hundred yards further, where they would cross the perimeter set up by the Muggle group they were trying to infiltrate. Then, presumably, they'd be spotted, and then they would proceed to seek entrance into the group.

"I said, are you all right?" Draco's voice was surprisingly kind.

Her heart was pounding and she felt like she might throw up. She tried to tell herself she'd been through a bloody war, but at least _then_ she'd had her wand and spells and magic at her disposal. Because these Muggles were so virulently anti-magic, they'd be forced to get through this mission without them. They'd hidden their wands in the forest near their arrival spot, disguised and warded, in a nondescript tree. After casting a spell on the tree that only they could detect, they'd walked away. It had been a long time since she'd been without a wand, and leaving it had been one of the hardest things she'd done since the war. She felt completely vulnerable and fragile without her wand; her only weapon was a gun she'd shot perhaps a dozen times in the back garden earlier that afternoon.

None of her reactions made sense, considering what she'd been through, but then, honestly, she had always made provisions for every scenario she could think of, then thought through every scenario after that. Now, she felt completely empty; the meeting hadn't been nearly long enough, and she and Draco had been forced to act like they knew most of what was going on already, as it was supposed to be the last meeting before this mission.

Harry and Ron had sat with them the whole time, translating and explaining things as quietly as possible, after Hermione taught them the Muffliato spell. After the meeting, they'd showed her and Draco as many memories as they could of their counterparts to get a good sense of who they were supposed to pretend to be. Of course, most of these Muggles had never met either of them, so at least _that_ was some relief. A crash course in the history of Muggle-wizarding relations came next, and her head was still positively swimming.

Last, but certainly not least, they'd been shown the laboratory where the Draco from here had worked to develop the device. Thankfully, only one other person was there, and Harry asked her to leave—though she glared at Draco as she did. Hermione remembered that the other Draco had, just the night before, disobeyed Dumbledore and taken the device.

They'd all looked for it, though without much hope of finding it. What they did locate were plants and notes, which Draco read surprisingly quickly. Then Hermione, with her background in the Department of Mysteries, and Draco, who recognized so much of the thought behind the design, were able to begin the Herculean task of understanding what they were looking at.

Draco seemed to take everything in with quiet strength. He asked a few questions, but nothing seemed to faze him. There was no way to know what he was thinking, of course, but his steadiness, his evenness relaxed her. Whenever she started to feel overwhelmed, she would look at him, and he'd either roll his eyes playfully, make a joke that no one but her would understand, or just smile reassuringly. The last thing she'd expected was to find Draco Malfoy to be a pillar of strength.

Granted, they hadn't actually _done_ anything yet, but even here, in the forest, moments away from risking their lives in a way she'd never imagined possible, he was a rock.

When she didn't respond right away, he smirked. "I know this sword makes me irresistible, Granger, but let's focus, shall we?"

That snapped her out of her thoughts and she narrowed her eyes. However, she didn't snap at him; her heart simply wasn't in it. "I'm as ready as I can be. And that's terrifying."

His haughty expression morphed into one of compassion. "This is insane. Completely. But if there's anything I know, it's that you can do this. _We_ can do this. Your brain, your knowledge of magic and the Muggle world, your ingenuity and your calculating mind, _plus_ my penchant for saving my own arse… they won't know what's hit them."

"Careful, Malfoy," she said, feeling undeniably boosted by the string of compliments. "I might get the idea you don't hate me."

He rolled his eyes. "I don't hate you, Granger."

"Well, I don't hate you, either."

"Glad we've got that sorted. Now. Are you ready? Beth?" He peered ahead, shielding his eyes with his hand. "They said walk North."

Beth was the name of her alias; Draco's name was Phil. These were only a few of the many pieces of information they'd had to absorb quickly during the meeting with the Order earlier. Hermione pulled out her compass and found their direction.

"That way." She pointed towards the least friendly looking path and slipped the instrument back into her bag. "Let's go."

They both turned to face North and for a moment, the sun went behind a cloud. A chill wind swept by.

"Seems cheery," he said, though he frowned at the woods in front of them. He took a step, but Hermione reached out and grabbed his arm. He stopped, peering at her quizzically.

She swallowed hard, then slid her hand down to his, grasping it firmly. Then she walked ahead. He didn't say anything, didn't pull away like she'd feared he might. Maybe he, like her, appreciated the tangible connection to the only person in this whole entire universe who knew him.

At first, they didn't speak as they moved through the woods. But they weren't trying to sneak up on the Muggles, quite the opposite, in fact. When Hermione remembered this, she tried to relax.

"I wonder if they have Quidditch here."

Draco gaped at her. "Are you serious? First, we shouldn't be talking about that. Second, did you honestly just mention what I think you did?"

She shrugged. "I thought it might be more normal for us to talk rather than creep through the trees in silence."

He was thoughtful for a moment. "You're probably right. What should we talk about?"

"There's no way to know if what we say will be overheard. Might be best not to talk after all."

Draco nodded, his brow creased in thought. "Just remember who you are, Granger. And remember that I will not leave you."

She squeezed his hand and smiled. Ten minutes later, that's how they were found, hand-in-hand, slashing through the woods.

"Freeze!"

They did. Hermione saw about six people come out from cover with their guns drawn. She and Draco raised their hands, clasping tighter to each other.

"Drop the sword."

Draco complied.

"What are you doing out here?" A man stepped forward in military fatigues, no weapon raised. His hair was cropped short and he had an eye patch over one eye, with mud smeared across his cheeks.

"We heard there was a special group out here." Draco didn't miss a beat. "Heard they're serious about hunting for magical blood."

Hermione marveled at how natural he was, how smoothly he spoke.

The man looked them both up and down, his gaze lingering on Hermione, drifting towards a leer. Draco's grasp on her tightened and he pulled her closer. The man laughed and held up his hands.

"I hear you, mate. Read you loud and clear. She's safe, we're not savages here. Unlike those wizards." Everyone spat.

Hermione grimaced; she knew enough about the Death Eaters in her own universe that she didn't doubt the man for an instant.

"Why us?" He stalked closer to Draco, still sizing him up.

"Your reputation," Draco said with a shrug.

The man nodded towards the sword. "You any good with that?"

"I've seen worse."

"I'm assuming you can shoot; if you couldn't, you'd be dead. Swords, knives, throwing stars: these things interest me. They say something about a man. You'll spar with Mitch, here. Depending on what I see, we'll go from there."

Draco nodded and looked at Hermione, giving her a small smile and a gentle squeeze before releasing her hand. He slowly stooped to pick up his sword, then stepped forward to where Mitch was standing in a small area with less underbrush.

Mitch bowed; Draco followed suit. Then they began.

Hermione watched with bated breath, though she felt a little bit uneasy about this sword fight. She silently thanked Harry for giving both her and Draco a few swallows of _Felix Felicis_ before they'd left. He'd told them the Order didn't have much in stock, as the ingredients were hard to come by, but he thought of anybody, _they_ should have some. So, she knew that, no matter Draco's skill, luck was very much on his side.

She wished desperately they could have brought some with them, but they hadn't been allowed a single magical item, not even her bag. Harry had told them the Muggles could detect magic and they'd likely be swept with a device. It was almost impossible, given the state of the world, to completely eliminate all magical traces from anybody. A long as they hadn't done magic in the recent past, they should be fine. They'd also undergone an extensive de-magicking routine everyone here appeared to be familiar with to remove any excess signs of magic from their clothes and hair.

The duel ended in a draw, though both men had drawn blood. The leader seemed impressed with Draco. Mitch returned to the forest whence he'd appeared, and the leader motioned for Draco and Hermione to follow him.

"We're a small group, we keep tight, but we've got big plans. Obviously you're not admitted yet, but you passed the first test." He nodded to Draco, who had drawn level to him. "Nice work."

Hermione did her best to keep up on Draco's other side, but when she lagged behind, he took her hand again, keeping a firm grip as they trudged through the woods.

"My name's Naylen. You are?" He held out his hand for Draco to shake.

He didn't even hesitate. "Phillip and Beth Higgs. Just married. Though I haven't been able to procure rings."

She had to stare at the ground in front of her to hide her surprise. They'd planned to use aliases, but there had been no discussion of them pretending to even date, much less being married—and newlyweds at that. Against her will, she felt her cheeks redden.

Naylen peered at them for so long Hermione had to fight the urge to fidget. Draco merely stood there, calm and serene as though nothing were amiss.

"Married, huh? Troy said you two hated each other when he met with you a few weeks ago. Said the tension was so thick he could feel it."

Hermione moved to stand very close to Draco, wrapping her free arm around his waist. She smiled up at him adoringly. "I'm not surprised Troy noticed the tension. It finally snapped between us about two weeks ago, and… well, the line between love and hate is very, very thin, right? Once we realized, we couldn't wait."

Draco looked down at her with an amused smile before he kissed her forehead.

"Ah, tension of a different sort." Naylen laughed and clapped Draco on the back. "Well, Troy was never very good with reading that kind of thing. He's not here right now, away on a mission, but we expect him back in a few days. We can probably find you something to suit for rings— _if_ we take you in."

After walking in silence for about fifteen minutes, they arrived at a small clearing with about fifteen tents surrounding a few small fire pits. Hermione wondered how they would even begin to find out who was working on the detection device, but as she scanned the camp site, she noticed a large tent towards the back, easily twice as tall as the others and clearly not used for sleeping.

Obviously they would have to begin there.

"Welcome—" Naylen spread his arms wide and spun in a slow circle "—to the Collective."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _In Dreams wrote this chapter._

Hermione wasn't certain what she had been expecting during the brief meeting at Grimmauld Place, wherein she and Draco had been filled in on their mission, but her vague imaginings didn't measure up to what was actually before her.

Naylen had been drawn away into conversation, leaving Hermione and Draco to their own devices for a short while. As they ventured farther in, she found herself blown away by the structure of their operations. Groups of people gathered between the tents, but deeper in still, more congregated around a long table where several others were serving a meal.

To his credit, Draco looked unperturbed by the mass of Muggles who wouldn't have hesitated to kill them if they learned they were _actually_ a witch and wizard attempting to infiltrate their organisation.

As they neared the larger tent in the distance, they exchanged a glance. If they were to discover anything about the Muggles' device—and how it might correspond to the one this dimension's Draco had crafted—they would need to figure out how to get in there without their purpose being found out.

A group of fighters practiced with swords, and the clanging drew her gaze. Still more Muggles lined up in range of a series of targets, firing clean bullseyes.

"Let me guess," Hermione breathed, glancing sidelong at her companion. "You can shoot a bow as well?"

The bridge of his nose crinkled. "Not well. Probably something we'll need to learn."

It was startling how rapidly she had come to depend on him, when it had only been earlier that day that she had stumbled across him on Whitehall. She had simply chosen to trust—perhaps blindly—in the fact that, for whatever reason, they were in this together. And if they wanted to get out, they would have to go through.

The light of day was beginning to fade, and it occurred to Hermione how unprepared the two of them actually were for this scenario. The day had felt painfully long with all its twists. Perhaps the Draco and Hermione from this dimension might have known what was expected of them, but they'd had weeks or even months to prepare.

Her gaze fell once more on the massive white tent ahead, and she swallowed. There was no safe way to speak out in the open, and without their wands they had no way of keeping their conversations hidden.

"There you two are!" Naylen interrupted, striding forth with a stern pucker to his brow. "I apologise for the delay. We'll get you situated, I suppose."

Turning on the spot, he began pacing in the opposite direction of the large tent, and Hermione moved to follow, Draco falling easily into stride.

It was difficult to say, since they had only just met the man, but Naylen looked distracted, his expression faraway. The three of them walked in silence through the tents until he turned to them with a thin approximation of a smile near the outside edge of what appeared to be a ring of tents circling the central area from which they'd come.

"We don't usually have spare accommodations, but we lost a couple of good fighters last week to the Deaths, and haven't yet filled their tent." With a grimace and a twitch of his lips, he added, "And no one wants to share with a pair of newlyweds, if you get my drift."

Hermione stared at the tent in question, feeling warmth creep up her neck and flare in her cheeks. Draco simply chuckled, slinging an arm around her shoulders as he gave Naylen a self-deprecating sort of look.

"We appreciate that," he said, giving her a squeeze. "Poor timing, of course, to marry during these times. But doesn't it make you realise the importance of seizing any shred at happiness in life?"

"I hear that, Phil." Naylen softened a little. Hermione carefully schooled her reaction at the alias. "Look, I've got meetings this evening, but I'll let you two find your bearings. Dinner is served until eight and after that, you're on your own. I wouldn't venture too far into the forest around here, you'd be lucky to only come across the guards. The tent should have some supplies, and if you need anything else, head to the main area where I found you—we call it the plaza. Someone will be able to help you out."

"Thank you," she murmured, while Draco clapped Naylen on the shoulder. With its packed earth floor and smattering of mismatched tables and benches, Hermione had never seen anything look _less_ like a plaza.

"Meet me tomorrow morning back in the plaza and we'll take it from there." Naylen turned to walk away, and while Hermione gave a cursory scan of the weapons visible on his person, he stopped, his head swivelling back to face them. "You'll understand my reticence, of course, given we don't know you. But just know that there's always someone watching. I wouldn't try anything funny or you might come to wish you hadn't."

A shiver crept, unbidden, along Hermione's spine and she felt her pulse pick up from the adrenaline.

But Draco chuckled again, glancing away with an easy wave. "'Course, mate. I'd be wary too."

After a stilted nod, Naylen turned to walk away.

Hermione lingered for a long moment, keenly aware of the way Draco's arm still rested on her shoulders, although after the day they'd had, the gesture was oddly comforting.

Reaching for the zip of the tent, he pulled the flap open. "After you. _Wife_."

Biting down hard on her lip, Hermione ducked inside the tent, waiting until he had entered and secured the door in place. The space was confined, barely large enough for the two of them. It featured one double cot with a pair of rolled up sleeping bags, and a small shelf was built into the nylon fabric on one side. The light coming through the walls cast a burnt orange tinge over everything.

A flicker of distaste crossed his face as he stood with a bit of a hunch from the low ceiling.

"This is cozy." His tone carried a hint of disdain as he dropped his bag to the thin floor in one corner.

"The most important thing is that we aren't being forced to stay with anyone else," she said, careful to keep her words hushed. Hermione wasn't particularly happy about it either, but they hadn't been expecting fine accommodations. "And at least we aren't sleeping on the ground."

"I've never understood _that_ element of Muggle culture," Draco grumbled, hauling a few things out of his pack and laying them on the inset shelf. Hermione recognised a couple of the items he had picked up at the hardware store in Diagon Alley, but they hadn't been able to bring anything magical in nature. "Can't say I've ever had a great desire to sleep with a tree root digging into my spine."

Despite herself, Hermione snickered. "It isn't particularly enjoyable."

His gaze lingered on the door before he settled cross-legged on the bare cot. Through the thin walls of the tent, Hermione surmised they would be able to see if anyone was near.

"We need to talk this through, now that we're here," he said quietly. Hermione took up a seat facing him on the cot that was narrow enough for one of her knees to nudge his. His gaze caught hers, a hint of humour playing in his stare. "Never mind the sleeping arrangements, of course. We _are_ married after all."

Scowling, Hermione glanced away. "Which you never mentioned beforehand, I'll add."

"You would have disagreed. _And_ we needed a believable story." Hermione didn't respond, picking at a loose thread in the canvas weaving of the cot. "We need to find out what's going on in that tent, and I think our best chance is to stage it as an accident."

"We'll go to the plaza for dinner," Hermione inferred. "And explore a bit."

Draco's tongue flicked out, moistening his lips. "Precisely. And it won't hurt to practice up with these weapons a bit more. Maybe try our skill with a bow and arrow."

"We have to find a way to check in with the Order at some point," she murmured, giving the idea some consideration. "Although I'm not sure we'll be able to just walk away from here. Not if there are guards in the forests."

"No," he agreed with a grimace. "We'll need to figure something else out. But our first priority needs to be that device. And it won't hurt to gain some trust around here."

Nodding, she released a deep breath. "It sounds like a plan."

After a few minutes of stowing and organising their things, they left the tent and made their way back towards the plaza, tucking away a few covert weapons on themselves. Hermione jumped and nearly recoiled when Draco slipped his hand into hers, but his firm grip served to both ground her and act as a warning.

His hand was smooth, his hold reassuring, when he laced their fingers and tugged her closer, a teasing smile on his lips.

He was a _way_ better actor than she was. The sobering thought crossed her mind that he must have had a lot of practice after surviving his seventh year at Hogwarts.

Once they arrived at the food table, however, seeing a number of other people eating at various picnic tables, his reasoning became clear. Many of the Muggles eyed them with suspicion or intrigue as newcomers. But the idea of them as a newlywed couple, friendly and warm, put the suspicion at ease.

It made them look less like trained fighters—attempting to infiltrate their facility—and more like a young couple just trying to integrate in order to survive. When they collected a tray of food—rations of some sort of lumpy stew with misshapen dinner rolls—and settled into a table with a few others, Hermione was instantly grateful for his quick thinking.

As a result, she found herself smiling up at him, leaning a little more into his touch, and doing her best to play her part. If it meant their stumbling across the large tent a short distance away would be a believable accident, and thereby allow them to leave this dreadful situation sooner than later, she was willing to do what it took.

And Draco, with all of his charm and charisma, smiled in return, embedding warmth in the pit of her stomach at the glint in his eye.

By the time they returned their empty dishes to the food table, they'd actually made some friends.

Although everyone around them wore weapons, Hermione was grateful they'd kept to covert knives, disinterested in looking on the offense their first night in the Collective's camp.

Over dinner, they had learned the people of the Collective operated on a schedule during the day, beginning at eight o'clock in the morning. Hermione privately decided if they wanted to impress Naylen, they would eat an early breakfast and be ready in advance. Various forms of weapons training in the morning, more training or strategy meetings in the afternoon, and organised raids at prearranged times throughout.

Hermione slipped her hand into Draco's once more as they walked around and greeted others, attempting to look more interested in him than what was going on around them. Groups of people huddled at various tables in conversation, and she tried to keep a running count in the back of her mind.

There were several times the number of people as tents, from what they had seen upon arriving, and it was apparent that many of them must be staying in some of the tents together. Once more, she felt a flicker of gratitude for Draco's backstory.

The sun dropped rapidly, leaving the camp in darkness but for the orange light of tall torches buried in the packed earth. And with the falling darkness, the workers at the food table packed up, and most others trickled back to their tents.

Hermione and Draco exchanged a glance.

He leaned closer, looping an arm around her and grinning into her hair as he led her on a meandering path towards the large tent they'd been eyeing since their arrival. Playing her part, Hermione grinned up at him, keeping her body turned towards him while she gazed around as quickly as possible once they entered the tent.

The bright, neon lighting in the tent was a stark contrast compared to the sparse torches outside, and numerous people lingered about, tools and weapons organised carefully, hanging in lockers along one wall. Several men in full combat gear stood guard near the trove.

And towards the far corner, others slaved over a single workbench.

When Hermione's vision slid back to the front, a stern looking man with close-cropped hair stepped before them, wearing a deep frown.

Extracting his arm from around her, Draco proffered a hand, standing alert. "Phillip Higgs. My wife, Beth. We've just arrived." Hermione offered a smile and a nod.

The man didn't react to either of them and Draco slid his hand back into his pocket. "This tent is only accessible to those within the Collective with proper clearance."

"Is it?" Draco's brows lifted with surprise. "I apologise—we weren't aware."

The man's frown lessened. "Naylen ought to have told you."

While Draco engaged the man in conversation, sharing several overreaching and untrue details about the two of them, Hermione anxiously scanned the far back corner where the workers were so intent. They were too far away for her to properly see what they were working on, but Hermione counted four of them, and they looked to be in some sort of heated discussion.

Two of them wore long white lab coats, while the others wore combat fatigues like the man before them and the other guarding the weapons cache.

She couldn't see anything else, and when Draco's arm coiled around her back, his fingers resting on her hip, she glanced back towards the man with a smile.

"We'll just carry on with our walk outside." Draco cracked a grin as he clapped the man on the shoulder. "Thanks for understanding."

The man's countenance had visibly relaxed since they'd entered the tent and Hermione wondered again at Draco's easy way of bending impressions. Ron had been wrong—he certainly wasn't useless at all. In fact, he'd been arguably more useful than she had since they had arrived at the Collective.

The man gave them both a nod. "Enjoy your evening. Nice night out."

Hermione noticed Draco's gaze flick briefly towards the weapons stash, but just as quickly, he was smiling back at her and leading her from the tent. The sun was fully down, the sky a deep indigo, and only a few people lingered in the plaza when they passed back through.

They carried on in aloof silence until they made their way back to their own private tent, acting as a couple in love with nowhere to be. But he turned towards her once they were safely inside.

"So, obviously they're hiding something. It doesn't surprise me that we weren't allowed to be in there."

"Right," Hermione agreed. "Whatever they were doing in the back looked contentious, and I'd wager it has something to do with the device Harry's looking for."

"Probably." Draco frowned, dropping his chin into a hand as he settled on the bed. "The question is how are we going to get to it. The trust we're developing here is fragile, and if we make one wrong move, I think we can count on being kicked out. Or worse."

Hermione stared at him for a long moment, adrenaline active in her veins. "We'll need to do something drastic to get the guards to leave the tent. What if we stage an attack or something?"

He frowned. "Maybe. The most important thing is getting to that device—however possible."

Sighing, Hermione nodded, sinking back on her side of the cot. "We'll just have to keep observing things and watch for an opening."

"Did you get a good look at the people working on the device?" Draco's words were cautious, measured. "That might be a route we can consider as well."

"Difficult," Hermione mused, "since they were so far away. But I might be able to pick them out."

Draco rose from his seat and laid his sleeping bag out along the cot, the bridge of his nose wrinkled as he fluffed one of the thin pillows that had been supplied for them. Looking displeased with his poor substitute for a proper bed, he shrugged out of his jumper, and without warning, released the closure on his jeans and tugged them down.

"Malfoy!" Hermione spun around with a hand over her face, reverting back to his surname in her surprise. "You can't just—"

"I apologise," he drawled. "I didn't bring my pajamas when I was unceremoniously uprooted from my life."

She scowled at him sidelong as he slipped into his sleeping bag in his shorts and a t-shirt, more so at the reminder that she wouldn't be very comfortable in her own jeans. She huffed. "I'm not wearing my knickers in front of you."

"Do what you like." He latched his hands behind his head as he stared at the ceiling of the tent. "But we _are_ married, remember?"

She didn't have to look at him to hear his smirk. Folding her arms, she chewed her bottom lip. "Fine. Turn around, please."

There was a scuffling of fabric and when she glanced his way, Draco faced the opposite wall of the tent. Quickly, Hermione slipped off her jumper and jeans before tucking herself into her sleeping bag. The cool air hit her skin, digging into her through the thin fabric of her threadbare sleeping bag.

Draco rolled to look at the ceiling again. "What a fucking day."

"Agreed," Hermione said with a titter. "I certainly wasn't expecting any of this."

His eyes flickered to hers for an extended moment. "The sooner we can get this all dealt with, the sooner we can figure out a way back to our time. Or space. Or what have you."

"I think it's a different timeline." Hermione was cautious of the thin walls and the nearby tents. "Harry and Ron are the same age here as they are where we came from, so my guess is these events are occurring simultaneously."

With a grimace, he said, "I didn't even know that was real."

"It's all theoretical. Or _was_." Her lips curled with a thought. "It's actually quite—"

"Don't say this is fascinating." They both fell silent until he snickered and shook his head. "Legitimately, this is bollocks. But… I suppose _maybe_ it's interesting."

Flashing him a grin, Hermione nudged him with her elbow through the fabric of their sleeping bags. Almost instantly, she wrapped her arms around herself again, feeling another chill dart through her. She clenched her teeth, tucking herself deeper into her sleeping bag.

"Get some sleep." Draco stifled a wide yawn behind his hand. "We'll have another big day ahead of us tomorrow."

"Right," Hermione agreed, nodding. "Good night, then."

He rolled onto his side, his back facing her, and Hermione attempted to make herself comfortable. The walls of the tent did very little to suppress the cold air in the forest, and she wished desperately for her wand. Even if she were able to summon a small amount of wandless magic, if the Muggle device _could_ detect instances of magic, they would be found out. She would simply have to grit her teeth and tough it out, hoping she would eventually find some rest.

Teeth clattering, she tugged the sleeping bag up over her head.

"Can you stop shaking?" Draco drawled.

"I can't," she hissed back, irritation creeping in. "It's cold out here."

"It isn't _that_ cold."

After several more minutes of Hermione shifting in an effort to tuck herself even deeper into her sleeping bag, Draco finally sighed and rolled around to face her. "Are you serious?"

She scowled at him even as a flicker of embarrassment crept up her throat. "I'm a naturally cold person."

For a long moment, Draco chewed on his tongue between his molars, shaking his head slowly in contemplation. "Fuck. Fine. We'll share, then."

Before she could even comprehend his meaning, he had zipped his bag open and reached for the pull of hers. Hermione squealed and pulled herself away, but he only swatted her hand away and dragged her across the cot by her fabric cocoon.

"We'll just join them together," he explained in a hushed voice, frowning as her zipper pull got stuck. "Body heat and all that."

"We will not!" Hermione exclaimed, her voice high pitched.

Draco rolled his eyes and stared hard at her for a moment. "Freeze, then. But do it on the floor so you aren't keeping me awake as well."

"I'm wearing my knickers." She was grateful for the dark so he couldn't see the colour flaring in her cheeks. "I'm not—"

"Merlin, Granger," he growled, carding a hand through his hair. "I'm not about to take advantage of you in your bloody sleep. If you don't want to be cold, we'll have to share. It's basic survival." His expression softened as he looked at her, a flicker of indecision in his stare. "It doesn't have to _mean_ anything."

Hermione felt herself crack and relent, and with a sigh, she relinquished her hold on the bag, allowing him to first unzip hers, and then zip the two together. Almost instantly, she felt the heat emanating from his body and scowled at his logic despite herself.

In separate bags with two layers of fabric between them, it had been easy enough to pretend they weren't sharing the same narrow cot. But now Hermione was all too aware of the lack of space between them and the fact that she was only half-dressed. When his leg grazed against hers as he shifted, her eyes snapped up to his.

Draco looked uncomfortable, and though it was difficult to tell, she thought she could see colour in his cheeks.

At last, he cleared his throat. "Better?"

"Better," Hermione whispered, her voice a little breathy.

Within the conjoined sleeping bag, it was nearly impossible to keep from touching him, and her shoulder nudged him when she attempted to get comfortable. She felt warm in a way that had nothing to do with the trapped heat, and suddenly wondered whether she would even find sleep this way.

His toes pressed briefly against hers before pulling away, and in the gentle light from the moon filtering through the walls, she could see the hard line to his jaw. "Good night, Granger."

"Good night."

Draco closed his eyes, the lines of his face smoothing into something peaceful and soft, and she found herself staring while her eyelids began to flutter, the rush of the day finally catching up with her as she drifted into an uneasy slumber.

* * *

When Hermione stirred awake the next morning, it took an extended moment to remember where she was.

And another to realise she was excessively warm, when she had been cold the night before.

And a third, drawn out, to recognise the precarious situation she found herself in.

Her bare legs were tangled with Draco's, one arm slung haphazardly around his waist, and her face was mashed against his chest. His arm was coiled around her shoulders, his hand lingering near the middle of her back.

A finger of dread crept along her spine as she froze, attempting to minimise her breathing in an effort to keep him from waking. When she had agreed to join their sleeping bags the night before, she hadn't expected to wake up _quite_ so compromised.

His hold around her was firmer than she had initially realised, as she learned when she attempted to maneuver away from his grip. With a quiet sigh, he shifted, his hand tightening around her, though his eyes remained closed, a soft furrow between his brows.

Objectively, Hermione had always acknowledged, somewhere deep down, that Draco Malfoy was attractive. But for many years he had treated her so poorly that she had never allowed herself to ruminate on the thought.

Now, finding herself sharing a cot with the bloke and suddenly trapped in his iron grip, she was forced to come to terms with the way his proximity stirred something within her. Most interesting was the fact that she felt comfortable and safe in his embrace, a thought she would have laughed at just two days earlier.

Caught between the need to escape and the desire for him _not_ to awaken—surely he would never let her live it down—she found a third option niggling in the back of her mind.

To simply relax in the security of his hold and allow herself a moment of peace. If she were to pretend she was still asleep, he couldn't hold it against her if she didn't alert him to their awkward positioning.

In her estimation, based on the lighting through the burnt orange walls of their tent, it wasn't time for them to get up quite yet, so she cautiously shifted back into a comfortable position, allowing her eyes to slide shut. After all, they would surely need all the rest they could get for the day ahead of them.

Draco shifted again, and Hermione kept her eyes shut in case he woke up, but his hand only shifted along the small of her back, nearing the curve of her arse. Holding her breath, she held as still as she could manage.

But then his fingers played along the skin below the hem of her shirt, nearing the band of her knickers, and Hermione's eyes snapped open, ready to jump back.

His eyes remained closed, his fingers stilling loosely against the skin of her back. She couldn't tell if he was aware of his actions, but her eyes tightened instinctively.

"What," he drawled, his voice gravelly with sleep, "are you doing?"

"Me!" Hermione hissed, cautious to keep her voice down. "You're the one who won't let go of me."

His eyes slid open only to roll with derision, and she could have sworn his lips twitched just for a moment. "It _sort of_ feels like you're trying to take advantage."

Huffing at the affront, Hermione attempted to disentangle herself from his hold, but he only offered an ostentatious yawn and held firm, squinting through the orange haze in the tent. When Hermione took hold of his wrist and physically removed it from her back, he snickered.

Draco rolled onto his back, releasing her at last, and stretched his arms out in the small space. "We should probably get up and get some breakfast before we're to meet with Naylen."

"Fine." In her urgency to escape the confines of their shared sleeping bag, Hermione shifted free, and his eyes lingered for just a moment on her bare legs before he politely averted his gaze. Feeling colour creep into her cheeks, Hermione dressed quickly with her back to him, and when she turned around, he was fully clothed as well. She faced him expectantly. "Weapons?"

Hesitating for a moment, he stared at her before nodding. "I think so. We'll probably have some time to practice. And Merlin knows if something goes wrong we might need them."

Hermione frowned at the thought but offered a stilted nod, slipping various knives into their holsters on her person. Draco strapped the sheathed katana onto his back, holstered his pistol at his belt, and left several other knives and daggers showing.

Through a twinge of uneasiness, she offered, "I guess we're forsaking the innocent newlyweds thing."

"We're still newlyweds," he returned with a bit of a wink, "only today we're prepared to defend ourselves if need be."

Once they'd gathered everything they might need and tucked the rest of it safely away—a challenge, given the limited space in their tent—they made their way towards the plaza. A number of people already sat at the assortment of tables eating breakfast or roamed the training pits.

Draco flashed her a grin. "Find us a table will you, love? I'll get breakfast."

Her stomach twisted at the endearment, even as she managed a tight nod. She wasn't keen on the idea of the two of them separating, but they needed to look as if they were doing their best to integrate into the group. Hermione slipped onto the bench at a table with one of the men they had met the night before at dinner and another woman she didn't recognise. She thought the man's name was Eris.

Across the plaza towards the large research and storage tent, she could see one of the men in white lab coats from the night before, speaking rapidly with a woman in combat fatigues before ducking into the tent.

"Interesting, isn't it?" Eris asked, taking a sip of his juice. "All that secretive work."

Hermione snapped her attention away from the tent, feeling the colour drain from her face. But the man was eyeing the tent as well. "Pardon me?"

"Whatever they're doing in there," the other woman added. "Must be important."

Draco slipped into the seat beside her with a tray of food, planting a kiss to her cheek so brief she didn't have a chance to react beyond blinking dumbly at him. But he was already placing a plate of food in front of her and turning towards Eris.

"You don't know?" Draco asked, eyeing the pair across from them. "Top secret, from what we've heard."

"Naw, mate." Eris waved a hand, peering over his shoulder once more. The man in the lab coat and the woman in fatigues were both gone. "Only the ones working in there know anything about it. And Naylen, of course, but he keeps things close to the vest, doesn't he?"

"Right." Hermione took a careful bite of her potatoes.

Eris leaned in, his eyes flickering between his companion and the two of them. "Word is, something in there is going to turn the tides of this blasted war. Put the wizards at a disadvantage for once. No one knows if that's true, though. Or even what _it_ is." With a grimace, he sat back. "Seems to me _magic_ is a pretty big advantage they've got."

"Bollocks is what it is. Not _all_ of the wizards are bad though, from what we're seen." Draco nodded at Hermione. "Just the bloody Death Eaters, yeah?"

Scrunching up his nose, Eris shrugged. "Haven't seen a wizard unwilling to draw his wand to protect himself against us. Death Eaters are the worst, of course, but they're all rotten if you ask me."

Hermione caught Draco's eye just for a moment, but it was long enough to surmise he was thinking the same thing. This group might be harder to persuade in working with the Order than Harry and the rest were expecting.

The four of them ate their breakfast in silence. Several minutes later, Eris and his companion collected their trays and walked away, leaving Hermione and Draco to stew in the tension that remained until Naylen slipped into the bench across from them.

"I see you're ready for training," Naylen said by way of greeting, eyeing their weapons. "Good. You'll be training in the pits for the morning. I've got some meetings, but I'll check in when I can—and I'll collect reports on your progress from the instructors later."

"Sounds good." Hermione attempted to force some confidence onto her face. If nothing else, it would be a chance to improve her minimal skills.

Naylen hesitated for a moment, glancing between them. "It isn't a requirement that you're skilled at combat, but we _do_ like to see effort and we value improvement."

Beneath the table, Draco's foot nudged hers, but she had already picked up the message. If they worked hard and integrated into the group, they'd likely get to stay. And if they wanted any chance at learning about the device, and passing on the Order's offer of assistance, they needed to stay.

With a tight smile, Draco said, "Sounds good. We'll do our best."

Naylen rose to his feet and nodded. Left to their own devices once more, Draco caught her eye, his lips curling with a smirk. "Archery?"

"Archery," Hermione echoed instantly, flashing him a grin. She'd had her eye on the bows and arrows since the night before. She collected their empty dishes on the tray and rose, returning them to the meal table on their way to the pits.

Draco tugged her hand into his, a seemingly natural act that nearly made her flinch, and he quipped, "Loser owes the winner a drink."

Sometimes he was a little _too_ good with the act.

* * *

Almost two hours later, with the late-morning sun beating down on her, Hermione found herself cursing their decision to begin with archery because they both had little to show for their time. The archery instructor had been patient with them, teaching them the basics. The only good part was that Hermione had managed to land a couple shots along the outside rings of her target, while Draco only grew increasingly agitated at the next target over.

She snickered at a particularly vulgar string of curses and he fired her a scowl.

Lining up her next shot, Hermione blew out a steadying breath, aware of his eyes on her. Relaxing the way the instructor had taught her and carefully drawing the string back, she released the arrow.

When it struck the target within the second ring out from the bullseye, Draco scoffed, offering a facetious smile.

"Well done, Beth!" the instructor exclaimed with a nod.

Making a face, Draco mockingly echoed, "Well done, Beth," before returning to his efforts, grumbling to himself all the while.

Hermione only flashed him a grin.

After a brief lunch break, he dragged her into the sword fighting pits, and she couldn't determine whether he wanted to prove he was good at _something_ because of Naylen's evaluation, or if he was still disgruntled with her performance in the archery lesson.

But within an hour, the afternoon heat weighed them down, and Hermione found herself worn to exhaustion. Draco was good enough with a sword that the instructor had more or less left them to themselves, merely observing from a distance while they fought with dulled blades.

She felt herself slowly learning the footwork, parrying his blows with increasing comfort, but she felt clumsy and slow compared to his quick steps and easy slashes. More than once she'd found herself caught at the edge of his harmless blade.

And when he stopped to walk her through the movements, coming up alongside her to maneuver her body, Hermione couldn't help the flush that had nothing to do with the heat.

Idly, she hoped this meant the tent wouldn't be so cold that night and that they wouldn't have to share their sleeping bags again.

She was certain, by the time they left the sword fighting ring, she had angered muscles she'd never used before; she didn't look forward to the way she was bound to feel the next day.

They spent a bit of time learning how to properly utilise their knives, discovering a few tricks and practicing distance throws. By the time they dragged themselves to the plaza, Hermione was fatigued from the heat and the physical exertion.

Digging into their meals, neither of them noticed as Naylen slipped into a spot at their table until he chuckled. "A meal well-earned, or so I'm told."

Hermione caught Draco's eye for a moment, swallowing a bite of her meal.

His expression falling serious, Naylen looked between the pair of them. "I'm glad to hear you took the training lessons today seriously. It shows you both value your place here—and it sounds like you've been integrating into the group well."

With a knit between his brows, Draco nodded. "We've been trying. It _is_ important to us."

Naylen frowned, observing the pair of them. "We don't trust easily, and that means we'll still be keeping an eye on you. We've been burnt too many times and lost too many good fighters. But I'd like to offer you both a spot here in the Collective."

Feeling a thrill of anticipation, Hermione smiled. It was the first step towards following through with the plan—and with their eventual return home. "Thank you."

"We appreciate that," Draco said, his jaw hard. "We won't let you down."

"I certainly hope not." Naylen's tone was tinged with a hint of humour, but something darker lingered behind his words. "You'll regret it if you do."

Draco's heel dug into her foot and Hermione's smile lingered through sheer force of will until Naylen rose and walked away.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Floorcoaster wrote this chapter._

* * *

Bone weary unlike anything she could remember, Hermione allowed Draco to lead her to their tent after the evening's festivities concluded. Neither spoke until they were inside, where they looked at each other somewhat awkwardly. They'd gotten through the evening with a combination of careful lies sprinkled amongst as much truth as possible and more physical displays of affection than she'd anticipated. That consisted mostly of his hands on her in different ways—twined with hers, on her lower back as they walked, on her leg as they sat; he'd even kissed her hand once. It was surprising how quickly the initial discomfort had faded.

Now, though, when faced with only each other, she couldn't quite look him in the eye. To make matters worse, they'd completely cooled off from their earlier exertions, and with the dip in temperature, she knew they'd once again be sharing their sleeping bags.

Draco gave a huge yawn and tugged off his shirt. Hermione squealed and shut her eyes, listening to the sound of him unzipping his jeans, slipping them off, and then crawling into bed. When it sounded as though his movements had ceased, she opened one eye and looked at the cot. He was laying on his back, his hands under his head which was tilted skyward. The top of their tent had a slice of window, and she followed his gaze to see hundreds of stars.

With his attention elsewhere, Hermione hurriedly slipped out of her trousers and slid in beside him, shivering at the brief exposure to the night air. She huddled in a ball until she was warm enough to stretch out a bit, then did as Draco was doing and laid on her back to look up.

After a few minutes, Draco spoke. "At least the stars are the same here. What I can see of them, anyway."

Hermione scanned the sky, quickly finding a few of her favorite constellations. "Everything looks the same to me. Though we can't see a whole lot of the sky, what with all the trees."

Again there was a long stretch of silence. Hermione yawned.

Draco rolled on his side to face her, speaking in a whisper. "We should talk."

"What about?" She didn't look at him.

"Our strategy. I'm not sure I trust them not to eavesdrop, even in here. Best if we only whisper."

Hermione nodded. "All right. What are you thinking?"

"We've got to get into that tent, but we also need to lay low. I say we take a few days to just… exist here. With no attempts to do anything beyond what we're supposed to do. We can't risk getting caught so much as looking in a direction we shouldn't. Not right now."

He was close enough that on certain words, she could feel his breath on her cheek. "I agree so far."

"Good. We'll just… do that then." Draco returned to laying on his back.

Hermione was surprised by how chilly it was. The spring days were creeping towards summer, but despite the warm sun during the day, the nights were still very cold. As she gazed at the stars, her eyelids grew heavy. Draco shifted, and the back of his hand brushed her arm. The warmth emanating from his body was lulling her to sleep, but her mind wouldn't let her succumb.

"Hey, um, Phil?"

His chuckle was a low rumble. "Yes, Beth?"

She'd already been through one war, spent months running from Death Eaters and Chasers, she'd broken into Gringotts while Polyjuiced as Bellatrix and escaped on the back of a dragon, and she'd fought in the final battle against a horde of Death Eaters.

And while those things had all been terrifying, there was one thing she'd never been without: magic.

There were two words dancing in her mind, and she wasn't sure if she should speak them out loud. Would it help to admit out loud that she was scared? Or would it only make things worse?

A wolf howled in the distance, and she felt Draco twitch at the sound. His breathing was ragged as he froze, listening intently for another howl. It really sunk in that he was her only connection to home, and if they were going to get through this, they absolutely needed each other. They needed to establish an unshakeable trust in order to be successful.

She broke the silence. "You were... Kind of incredible today."

He shifted and she could practically feel his inquisitive gaze. "How so?"

"The way you moved through the day, as though this is truly who you are." She chuckled nervously. "I was an anxious mess the whole time, terrified they'd figure us out."

For a moment, he didn't reply. "I have a lot of practice at pretending in order to stay alive." He spoke deliberately. "Or unnoticed. After… Sixth… my whole life was one long act where one mistake could cost me my life."

There was no light in the tent, but the moon was full, and though she could only see his profile, his hair seemed to glow in the silver light. She watched the steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathed and found the simple action comforting.

"I'm scared," she whispered, only risking the admission when she thought he might be asleep. So much for Gryffindor bravery.

Underneath the blanket, his hand found hers and he squeezed it. He didn't speak, but he didn't let go, either. Just when she thought he'd drifted to sleep, he whispered into the space between them, bitterness lacing his words. "We're in this together. My skills in self-presentation are a thing of legend, are they not?"

"I have to trust you." Her voice wavered; the thought was slightly terrifying.

"I'm sure that's rather difficult. But... Beth." He rolled into his side once more and propped himself up with an elbow. All the while, he kept his grip on her hand firm. She appreciated the constant contact, a tether to something real in this unprecedented time of uncertainty. "I swear on my... My essence, my nature." _My magic_. "I will not leave you, nor do anything to harm you." She closed her eyes and took a shaky breath. "For what it's worth, I completely trust you. But then, your character has always been more admirable than mine."

Merlin, she barely knew this man she'd been thrown into this impossible situation with.

"Maybe, for now, just trust my desire to stay alive and get home, yeah?" He gave her shoulder a light nudge with his fist.

"I can do that. And... as odd as this sounds, I do trust you. In a way." She could practically hear his skeptical look. "When I don't think about it too much."

He chuckled and returned to lying on his back, their hands still clasped together. "We should sleep. I can tell I'm going to be very sore tomorrow."

"Mmhmm. Night. Phil."

"Night, Beth."

**ooo**

They were awakened the next day by a bugle song. Hermione's eyes popped open and she found herself staring directly at a newly awake Draco, his expression momentarily confused. They had shifted in the night, their legs were slightly entwined, and his arm was slung loosely over her waist.

Her eyes widened, embarrassment threatening to swallow her whole, but Draco merely yawned, pulling himself free from her limbs as he stretched. Naturally, nothing they'd done in their sleep meant anything, anyway, so there was no reason to be so alarmed.

She located her jeans and grabbed them. "I think we have about forty-five minutes before breakfast." While still in the sleeping bag, Hermione struggled into her jeans, drawing another chuckle from Draco.

After she got up, he followed suit and pulled his jeans back on. Then he held up the shirt he'd worn the day before and sniffed it. He made a face, then dropped it and reached into his bag for another one. "I wish we'd brought more clothes."

Hermione laughed, surprised by his action. She started to speak, but she noticed someone approaching their tent.

Draco immediately went to their flap and opened it, stepping outside. Hermione joined him and saw a burly man with facial hair and tattoos. He nodded to her and handed her a small box. She glanced at Draco to see him holding two ratty looking towels.

"I'm Roger. Naylen sent me over." He pointed towards the woods about thirty feet from their tent. "There's a creek about a quarter mile in. You're on the schedule for bathing. Don't get lost or take too long; the next group will be along about twenty minutes behind you."

Hermione's eyes widened, but Draco merely nodded and held out his hand. "Thank you, Roger. Come on, Beth."

As she took it, Roger chuckled. "I'm your nearest neighbor, and I just have to say. You two are the quietest newlyweds I've ever encountered."

She was instantly red in the face, and she felt Draco's fingers tighten around hers. "Just trying to be respectful, mate. We are new, after all."

"I think we'd all feel a lot better if you just, you know, went all out." He grinned, exposing a mouth full of missing teeth. When he saw Hermione's expression of abject horror, he laughed with his whole body. "Or maybe not!"

Draco shook his head, chuckling good-naturedly, and tugged her along with him as he headed towards the woods. Hermione elbowed him.

"Ow!" Draco rubbed his side and gave her a questioning look. "What was that for?"

"Did you have to say that? Now everyone thinks—" She broke off. Of course everyone expected them to sleep together, they were supposedly newlyweds.

"Admittedly, it is the most unfortunate aspect of our cover. I'm not quite sure how to proceed." They reached the tree line and plunged in. There was a rope slung along the trees and a vague path had been cleared.

"Maybe we can complete our assignment and leave before it's an issue." The thought of even pretending made Hermione extremely nervous. It was one thing to hold hands and use fake names, but to carry it to such an extent… Well, she simply wasn't prepared for that.

They followed the rope and came to the creek after about fifteen minutes. Draco motioned for her to go first, politely turning his back to give her privacy. Hermione groaned inwardly, then quickly disrobed and got in the water. It was frigid, and she hurried to clean herself. She didn't bother with her hair; she'd have to think of what to do about that later. She'd thought she might enjoy the water for a bit, but she was already losing feeling in her toes. She dried and dressed as quickly as possible. "All clear."

Draco turned around, obviously surprised. "That was fast."

"Water's freezing." Her teeth were chattering when she pulled the towel around her and sat on the ground in an effort to get warm.

He frowned and headed for the water. When he started pulling off his shirt, Hermione realized she'd sat facing the water, and she spun around, though not before catching a decent glimpse. She swallowed hard. It had always been too dark in their tent for her to see much when he'd taken off his shirt, but now she could never again exist in a world where she hadn't seen Draco Malfoy's well-toned chest. It was really the last thing she needed to think about as she sat on the riverbank.

Her nerves were frayed to ribbons, fears she hadn't even given space to were crowding her mind, she was in a constant state of terror at their situation, and Draco Malfoy was the only thing holding her together.

She truly _was_ in a different dimension.

"I'm done." He held out a hand to help her up. She'd been so caught up in her thoughts that she hadn't heard him approach. It was the type of mistake she couldn't afford to make.

"Thanks," she mumbled as she clumsily rose to her feet.

He kept her hand once she'd found her balance, and in silence they returned to camp. About halfway, they passed another couple, who waved and greeted them. Hermione almost missed the other man waggle his eyebrows at Draco.

_Newlyweds_. They'd just gotten married. She had to remember that, keep it in the forefront of her mind.

When they reached the edge of the clearing, they paused, taking it in. Finally, Draco squeezed her hand. "Ready for another day? So many muscles are hurting right now in places I didn't even know could hurt." He chuckled. "But one thing I learned from Quidditch training is that the more we move, the sooner we'll get through this part."

She looked over to find him smiling at her in a way that, if she hadn't known better, she might have called affectionate. Without thinking, she returned it. "Ready."

**ooo**

Three days passed much the same as the first day. They woke, went to the creek when they were assigned, ate, trained, ate more, trained more, ate one more time, and socialized. On one of the days, they'd been assigned to food duty, and their entire day was spent prepping, cooking, and cleaning. While it was obvious Draco had never done such work before, he more than made up for his naïveté in his willingness to learn. They'd ended up having a blast working together.

One thing she had not anticipated was how much their physical displays of affection were scrutinized, and she almost wished Draco hadn't said they were newly married. When they weren't holding hands, Draco had his arm around her, or slightly more intimate, his hand on her knee. He seemed to go out of his way to touch her, though he never made her uncomfortable.

The kisses were the most awkward.

They'd done it a few times, though it felt robotic and mechanical, typically brought on by others encouraging them or because it was expected of them in the moment. They'd never spoken of it, and she suspected that he, like she, preferred to pretend nothing had happened. Nonetheless, it had become almost natural to touch each other.

After doing their best to covertly watch how things were run, including security and patrols, they'd worked out a plan to go on an evening walk and then sneak into the off-limits tent. They joined the rest of the community around the fire after dinner to chat and drink and eat more. They were huddled in a little group of about eight, talking about nothing. Draco didn't speak much because he didn't have a Muggle background, but Hermione more than made up for his silence. Every now and then, he'd throw in a quip that made everyone laugh.

Draco's hand was resting absently on her leg as he talked to someone. Occasionally, it would creep higher, and something in her would flutter. She knew that tonight they'd need to show extra affection, so when her conversation fell into a lull, she threaded her fingers through his and gave him a _look_.

She leaned towards him and lowered her voice, but spoke loud enough for those closest to hear. "I'd like to go on a walk." Then she stretched her body closer to whisper in his ear. "Pretend I'm saying something that turns you on right now."

His eyes went wide and he nodded, then stood and pulled her to her feet, wrapping an arm around her waist. "My wife and I are going for a stroll. We'll see you all tomorrow."

Giggling, Hermione pulled him into the woods and out of sight of the group. Their plan was to wander for an hour or so until it was dark enough that they couldn't see. They held hands and talked quietly, testing the edges of the perimeter. Whenever they got too close to the guards patrolling, they headed back away from the edges with a friendly wave and innocent apology. They'd chosen not to try and sneak into the tent in the middle of the night. Being found then would be far more suspicious than being found inside when most people were still awake. And if they were caught, Hermione had come up with a plan for that. Draco had been hesitant at first, but really, they couldn't think up a better cover than a heated snogging session. _If_ they were caught—and they expected to be—they'd just pretend they'd gotten carried away and were only thinking about one thing.

Once night had fallen, they took out the flashlight they'd brought and continued their lazy stroll around the clearing. Finally, it was time to make their move. They'd discovered that the back of the tent was made of two overlapping pieces of canvas. They believed they could slip through and inside without being noticed. However, they also knew that they were most likely being watched as they walked, and they probably wouldn't have much time inside.

On their final pass around the clearing, they stopped about twenty feet from the tent, and stood in one spot for about ten minutes. Hermione insisted this was to show that the flashlight had stopped moving, in case anyone was watching. When enough time had passed, Hermione took Draco's hand and pulled him behind the tent. They easily slid inside and started looking around.

Their primary goal was to locate where the device was situated inside, but they also wanted a visual record of as much as possible for the Order to peruse through their memories upon their return. Draco started to head towards one side, and she followed him.

"We have to stay close!" she hissed.

"I know."

"Just… wait a minute." She scanned the room for a table without a lot of things on it, and when she found one, she swept the items off.

"What are you doing?"

"It's part of the plan." With a hard look, she resumed scanning the room and encouraged him to do the same. With only one light, they were limited to scanning just one section of the room at a time, and she insisted they do it in a seemingly random way. She saw what she thought had to be the device, and she knew Draco had as well when he sucked in a breath.

Just then, she heard noise from outside. They looked at each other and knew it was time to put their plan into action. Hermione grabbed Draco's hand and pulled him back to the table she had cleared earlier. It was near the back, and with all the stuff inside, it would likely take at least half a minute before they were found by whoever was about to enter. Hermione hopped onto the table and pulled him closer. They fumbled into a kiss, and even though it was the most intense kiss they'd shared so far, Draco felt completely stiff.

Hermione heard the tent flap dragged back and knew it wouldn't be enough. She drew back, and to his utter astonishment, pulled her shirt off. His eyes lingered on her dark blue, lacy, impractical bra, and then she resumed kissing him. She heard voices now, and her heart was pounding furiously.

"Put your hands on me," she whispered.

"What?"

"Oh, for—"

Time was almost up and she couldn't wait. She took one of his hands off the table and put it on her breast, then hooked her legs around his waist, pulling him flush against her.

Finally— _finally_ —he seemed to grasp what she was doing and he started kissing her back— _really_ kissing her, his free hand gripping her waist as he leaned into her. He couldn't seem to force his other hand to move, but she didn't think it would be entirely necessary. When his tongue darted out and lightly touched her lips, she whimpered, and she happily granted the permission he sought. They didn't get far into their heated snog, however, when someone cleared their throat.

Hermione opened her eyes and squinted. She hadn't noticed the light shining on them and wondered just how long the others had been watching. She felt heat creep into her cheeks.

"You're not supposed to be in here," said a tall, very wide man.

"Oh! I'm so sorry! We were just…" She looked at Draco, who was clearly having some difficulties gathering his thoughts.

"I'm quite familiar with what you're doing, Miss Beth." The man chuckled. "But you shouldn't be in _here_ doing it."

Hermione jumped off the table and started picking up things she'd knocked off earlier. "We're awfully sorry, again. It just… we got so caught up in the woods, and then we checked and this tent was unoccupied, so…."

She could feel their eyes on her, leering as she hurriedly tidied the table. Draco snapped out of his stupor then, took the flashlight off the table, and found her shirt, covering her with it as best as he could while glaring at the intruders.

The men all laughed and elbowed each other. The biggest one, the one who'd spoken to them, clapped Draco on the back. "Listen, just don't let it happen again, yeah? Lots of sensitive stuff in here, mate. Requires clearance."

"We'll be careful." Draco gave him a tight smile.

"Thanks!" Hermione put her shirt back on and the two of them rushed out, giggling at how they'd been caught.

They hurried to their tent and went inside. When the flap was closed, Draco started pacing. Hermione quickly went through what she'd seen in the tent while her breathing slowed. The previous fifteen minutes had been a blur of activity and adrenaline, and she knew it would take time for her heart to stop racing and her blood to stop boiling.

After a moment, he stopped abruptly and opened his mouth to speak.

Hermione held up a hand. "Wait. We should..." She trailed off, her eyes drifting to the cot.

"Oh, yeah. Right." He quickly pulled off his shirt and jeans and slipped into the joined sleeping bags. "Tomorrow I want to use that soap on my shirt. Someone mentioned it at lunch time."

"Good idea." Hermione removed her trousers and got under the covers. She shivered from the cold air and curled up, unable to talk for a few minutes until she was warm. The excitement from their infiltration had faded and she was reminded how chilly the nights were still.

When she felt warm enough, she slowly stretched until she could lay on her back. His warmth, radiating from his side, helped, even though they weren't touching.

She turned her head towards him, as was their custom, so they could speak quietly. "Did you see it?"

Draco rolled onto his side and propped his head up with an elbow. "I think so. That big black thing in the middle of the room?"

"That's my guess as well. Do you have any idea what it was?"

He shook his head. "Do you think we should just destroy it?"

"No. I've been thinking about that. If we do, they'll only rebuild it. Or make a new one. I don't think they'll ever stop, really. Maybe we can sabotage it so that it never gives reliable information."

"I'm in way over my head."

She let out a shaky chuckle. "Me too. But our assignment is only to get information. As much as we can. I think the, um, others had a more involved task, but since we aren't them, this is safer."

He shifted a little, adjusting his arm. "How are we supposed to do that?"

"I don't know." Her voice felt small in the still night air between them.

Draco lay back down on his back and laced his fingers together on his chest. Hermione made a point not to stare at him, even though she couldn't see much in the dark.

"Do we, um, need to talk?" His voice surprised her; she'd drifted into the first chambers of sleep.

"About what?" she mumbled.

He chuckled nervously. "Um, what happened earlier?"

"In the tent?" Her sleep-desperate brain was trying hard to shut down, but the slight edge of panic in his tone kept her from letting it.

"Yes. In the tent. The, um, plan did not exactly go how I thought it would."

Hermione was thankful for the darkness because she blushed. "Oh. That."

"Yes. _That_. You said we would snog. I was not expecting… _that_."

"I know." She shut her eyes tight, embarrassment at the whole ordeal catching up to her. "That was a bit of improvisation."

"A bit!" he repeated with a barked laugh. "Why did you think it was necessary?"

Hermione huffed. "The kissing just wasn't working on its own. It was too… rigid. I knew it wouldn't be enough. I just did what I had to do to sell the story that we'd been so overtaken by our passions that we snuck into the nearest structure to tear each other's clothes off. If we hadn't gotten very far into that process, the act would have fallen flat. Besides, you were clearly not into the kiss at first."

"Are you saying I wasn't a good kisser?" His tone was so incredulous she almost laughed.

"Are you saying you were giving it your very best?"

"I… well, all right, no. But what should I have done? We've got such a history, we hadn't seen each other in years, and we're just supposed to kiss _like that_ as though it's nothing? That's… not terribly easy for me."

Hermione smiled at his dark form. "You said you're used to doing what you have to in order to stay alive. I simply see it in the same light."

"So you don't… mind? Kissing like that, I mean."

She frowned. "Were you holding back out of consideration for me?"

"I can't imagine any of this is easy or pleasant for you. I'm probably the last person you'd ever choose to be stuck in this situation with, and it was my last-second idea to say we were newlyweds. I didn't ask your permission to say that, and because I did, now we're expected to be shagging on every horizontal surface." He ran a hand through his hair, and she watched as it floated in the silver moonlight. "I'm… sorry about that."

Hermione let out a long breath. "Oh, that's—it's all right. I don't mind." A worrisome little flutter in her chest burst to life. She was deeply touched by how much he was trying to think of her, to respect her space and her person.

"Really?" She could hear the skepticism in his tone.

"Yes. Really. It truly was the perfect cover in many ways." But there was still something that needed to be said. "Only… Draco?" She spoke his name so softly she could barely hear herself, but he tensed. "We need to remember to keep things… professional. What happened earlier was done only to further our efforts here."

He nodded in the dark. "I know. I'll let you take the lead on this aspect of our relationship. Just… do me a favour, yeah? Warn me next time you plan to strip clothing off?"

Hermione blushed again. "That's fair. I'll do my best. Though, I can't imagine we'd need to do that again."

"Hopefully we'll get out of here soon and it won't be an issue."

Silence descended with the finality of his statement. Hermione was forced to realize that no matter how at ease he seemed, Draco was likely a hundred times more anxious than she was. Though she was more impressed by him with each passing day, his nerves had to be frayed. Hers absolutely were.

Those brief moments, while they'd been snogging, had been the most carefree moments she'd experienced since being drawn into this timeline, and she'd be lying if she didn't admit, at least to herself. Those moments had been pure bliss.

It occurred to her then that her trust in him had grown tremendously over the previous few days, so much so that she'd been comfortable taking off her shirt in front of him, even letting him touch her—okay, in fairness, commanding him to touch her. Even though it had only been for the sake of the ruse, there's no way she'd have done that even two days prior. Their situation had forced them together, forced them to depend on each other for their very lives. And though she'd known very little of him back in their own world, what she knew of him in this one, she liked. A lot.

Hermione nearly yelped when something touched her leg.

"Sorry," he whispered. The touch disappeared. "I… I was looking for your hand." He sounded apologetic, as though he hated to say what he was saying.

"Oh!" Her heart had started pounding erratically at the touch, but it began to slow. "Here." She carefully brought her hand up and rested it on his chest. There was a moment of vengeful fluttering inside in the seconds it lay there, waiting for him to move. His skin was warm, but it was more than that. She found him attractive, but that hadn't mattered before. Now, after kissing him—really kissing him and feeling his hands on her—she wasn't sure she could completely forget it. She'd do her best to compartmentalize that kiss, but she suspected it would be hard. She was genuinely beginning to care for him, but she had to keep firm boundaries in her mind.

She fell asleep like that, with their hands clasped on top of his chest as she mentally reinforced her barriers.

When she woke, she was alone. Hermione immediately panicked and sat up, her eyes darting around the tent. Draco's clothes were gone, but she forced herself to take deep breaths. He hadn't left her, he was just out of the tent. He probably woke up and had to use the bathroom. Truly, she wasn't worried, she was just surprised to find herself alone. Hermione quickly put her jeans on and slipped into her shoes. Hesitantly she peeked out of their tent to see if she could spot him.

Their tent was near the edge of a cluster of tents, so when she looked around, she saw a few other people milling about, getting drinks from the mess area. Finally, she spotted him near the food tent talking to a handful of men.

She stepped fully out, enjoying the feel of the wind in her face. Draco ended his conversation when he saw her and returned to their tent.

"Morning," he said with a smile.

His hands cupped her shoulders as he leaned in and kissed her so naturally that it stole her breath. It was nothing like the stilted, awkward kisses of the first few days. This kiss felt like he meant it. The pressure of his lips was light and sweet but just enough to make her sigh, and before she could begin to process this change, it was over.

"Morning." She felt breathless.

Draco smirked and went into the tent. She followed, slightly annoyed at herself. "Everyone is watching. They saw you come out, saw me walk over here." He started gathering his clothes from the day before and scrounged for the bar of soap. "Figured it would be fitting to greet my wife that way."

"Oh. Right." Something told her it wasn't going to be as easy as she thought to maintain her mental boundaries.

"I hope you weren't anxious when you woke up alone." He held up the soap. "It's our morning at the creek."

"A little," she admitted, grabbing her extra clothes.

"I'm sorry about that. There was something I had to take care of." He wouldn't look her in the eye, which only made her more interested.

"What could you possibly have had to do so early in the morning?" It wasn't that she didn't trust him, but he was acting awfully strange.

His cheeks reddened and he still avoided her. "Something... Personal. But I also went for a cup of tea, and... We should get down to the creek."

Her interest was immediately diverted. The creek was one place where they felt they were safe enough to talk during the day. "Let's go then." She stuffed their clothes into a bag and slung it over her shoulder.

As natural as breathing, Draco took her hand, lacing his fingers with hers. They passed a few people on their way to the woods, most of whom gave them knowing looks.

"It would appear that news travels fast," Draco murmured in her ear.

"Maybe it will put them at ease. Roger did say he thought it might help." She couldn't help the blush that crept into her cheeks.

When they reached the creek, Draco let her go first. "I've already cleaned up for the day. You can have our entire creek session to yourself."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "That's so generous of you to give me extra time in the frigid mountain creek. I can't wait."

He chuckled. "Actually, best hurry so I can tell you what I heard."

Anxious to hear his news, Hermione bathed quicker than ever. She dressed and wrapped her hair in the towel, then joined him to wash their shirts together. They started by dipping the garments into the creek, then used the soap to get a good lather. They rubbed that all over the shirts, and scrubbed any stains or dirt spots, before setting then set them on some rocks to dry. They wouldn't be dry before they walked back, but every bit helped and they'd hang them in their tent to and they'd be ready for the following day.

"I heard a few people talking about the device. From what I can gather, when magic is performed, molecules and atoms get shuffled around. But there are ions, specially charged particles, created from all the shuffling. The device can detect those ions by using something like…" He frowned, pausing his scrubbing efforts. "I'm not too familiar with any of this. I repeated it to myself in my head so I wouldn't forget. Something like… like a red wave?"

"Infrared?"

His eyes lit up. "Yes! Merlin, I wish you'd overheard them and not me. I take it you've heard of this before?"

"Oh, nothing about using infrared waves to detect magically-produced ionic particles, no. But I try to keep abreast of the major fields of what Muggles call science. So I know some of the terminology. I'm not sure how this helps us. There's nothing that can be done to prevent the creation of these particles. It sounds like they're a byproduct of performing magic itself."

Draco went to rinse his shirt. Hermione joined him after a minute, and together they repeatedly rinsed and wrung out their shirts until there were no soap suds left.

"Is there anything that can be done?" Draco asked.

"I don't know. I'll get up tomorrow morning and try to listen in, if you'll tell me where to go. Ready to head back?"

He nodded and started shoving their clothes back in the bag, slinging it over his shoulder before he effortlessly reached for her hand. They talked about nothing as they walked, nodding to the next group headed for the creek.

As they reached their tent, a woman they hadn't spoken to yet intercepted them. "Naylen wants to see you two. He's in his office." She pointed to a small, gray tent about twenty yards from the research tent. She didn't wait for a response.

Hermione and Draco exchanged a look, then headed toward the tent. As there was nothing to knock on, Draco called a friendly, "Hullo!" when they got near.

"Come in!" Naylen called. Draco pulled back the flap of the tent for Hermione to enter first. Naylen's tent was sparsely furnished with a desk and a chair for him, plus a couple of folding chairs leaning against the wall. "Won't you sit?"

Hermione quickly set up two chairs, and Draco covered his inaction—due to his unfamiliarity with folding chairs—by asking Naylen why he wanted to see them.

"Heard you two got a little lost last night." He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back, eyeing them critically.

She blushed and averted her eyes, finally dragging them up to meet Draco's. He was smiling warmly at her; then he looked at Naylen. "Yes, it was most unfortunate. We had no idea where we were."

"Forgive me if I say that's bullshit." Naylen now leaned forward on his desk, an unpleasant expression on his face. "You've been here a week already. Surely you're aware that there's only one structure in the whole campsite that's off limits unless you've got clearance, and that's just where you happened to end up?"

Hermione shrugged and pulled Draco's hand, still laced with hers, into her lap. "What can I say? We got a bit carried away."

"We're truly sorry. It won't happen again, we promise." Draco gave her a tender look. "The mood overtook us."

Naylen studied them carefully. Hermione made sure to look at Draco as though he were the sun, moon and stars of her world, as though there were nobody else in the room. For his part, Draco smiled and rubbed his thumb on the back of her hand.

"All right. Forgive me." Naylen sighed and sat back again, relaxing slightly. "We're just a bit paranoid around here. You're new, though, so you can't be expected to understand. Maybe a week isn't long enough to know the ins and out of the operation. The truth is… the truth is, Phil and Beth, that we think we have a mole."

Draco merely blinked, doing a fine job of hiding his utter confusion.

"You think someone in your group is a traitor?" Hermione was honestly surprised.

Naylen shrugged. "We aren't sure. We just know that for the past several months, our plans haven't gone off as we'd hoped. Nothing has been outright crippling, but these… occurrences are enough to keep setting us back. It wouldn't make sense for you two to be behind it, but we're awfully jumpy at anything out of the ordinary. And this is twice you've been implicated in something with our tent. We don't like the secrecy, but it's necessary. We're working on something really important in there, and it needs to stay quiet and protected. It could turn the tide in this war."

Draco nodded. "We're just here because we want the world to be a better place for our kind."

Naylen grinned. "That's exactly what we want, Phil. All right, thanks for stopping by. Enjoy your day. I think you're slated for…" He checked something on his desk. "Target practice in the gun range, archery, first aid, and strength training."

Hermione groaned. "I'm terrible at archery."

"You'll get better. Listen, thanks again. And I apologize for the suspicion." He pointed towards the door. "You'd best get going, don't want to miss breakfast."

"Thank you." Draco smiled and stood, pulling Hermione up with him. They were a few steps from the door when Naylen spoke again. "Out of curiosity, how did you two get into the tent?" He was peering at them with the same probing, curious expression from before. So much for the idea that their actions would no longer be scrutinized.

"In the back," Hermione said quickly. "There are two long flaps of canvas that overlap. We slid between them and found ourselves inside."

Naylen was shocked for an instant, an unguarded and honest reaction that he quickly masked. "Really? The entire perimeter is supposed to be a solid piece of canvas. My men did say you two were in the back." He grinned and waggled his eyebrows. Hermione had no doubt that the men who'd found them had spared no details of what they'd discovered.

"We weren't terribly interested in anything but each other." Draco squeezed her hand and gave her one of his adoring smiles. This time, however, Hermione wanted to imagine there was some heat behind it.

Naylen drummed his fingers on his desk, his expression troubled. Then it cleared and he smiled. "That's all. Thank you for being so candid, and again, I hope you don't think ill of us. Like I said, we've had some strange things happening lately. But again, those have nothing to do with you two. Enjoy your meal." He waved dismissively.

Draco led Hermione through the door and into the bright morning light. Their day proceeded as they'd expected: breakfast was followed by two hours of target practice. Hermione was determined to become proficient with a gun. Draco seemed almost natural with the weapons, which was a very good thing considering his counterpart had supposedly been trained as a soldier.

They took a short snack and tea break after that, then headed to the archery range for another two hours. Lunch followed, which was spent wolfing down their food because they were so hungry.

They had something of a break during their first aid session, and in this skill, Hermione outperformed him, having had a lot of exposure to Muggle medicine in her life. Their day of training ended with strength training, which turned out to be a combination of weight lifting and martial arts. Hermione was awful at it, but Draco had kept up some kind of physical exercise, if what she'd seen when he had his shirt off was any indication. He possessed a natural grace in his movements, and picked up the movements quickly.

When they were released from the sessions, they had an hour or so before the dinner bell was set to chime. Draco asked if they could go to the creek to clean up, and she agreed. The afternoons were open to anyone who wanted to enjoy the water, for recreation or other purposes.

When they were well out of sight of the camp, Draco pulled off his shirt. Hermione sucked in a breath.

"How much longer, do you think?" he asked, wiping the sweat off his forehead. "I think we've mostly got what we came for. If we're both working on this same thing, then chances are, he is using the same technique. Or a different one. We could research the different ways the particles are detected, examine all the notes in the lab, see what he was working on."

Hermione shook her head to clear her thoughts. _Focus_. Not stare. "Right. Yes. Do you remember where we came into the camp?"

Draco nodded. "We just have to find our way back through the perimeter—"

"Which won't be terribly easy."

"No, but we can always use our go-to diversion." He grinned at her. "We know it works."

"Very good point." She bit her lip but couldn't meet his eyes. "Do you want to stay one more day? Try to overhear more?"

"I think we should. I'm in no hurry to bolt after the day we've had." They reached the creek and Draco gave her a look. "I'm going in."

"I'm not." She held out her hand. "But I'll take your shirt."

Draco gave it to her, then started unzipping his trousers. Hermione shut her eyes and turned her head away. She felt the weight of more clothing on her still extended arm, and only when she heard him enter the water did she turn around. She was shocked to see his pants included with his garments, and she blushed furiously at the realization that he was naked.

Hermione quickly turned back around and stood there, trying to think of very uninteresting things: bubotuber pus and flobberworms and Hagrid's treacle fudge and the giant squid.

Draco didn't spend long in the creek, as the water was still frigid, so she heard him emerge and pad softly to her. "Thanks," he muttered, taking his clothes from her. After a minute or two, he came to stand beside her. "Ready."

She nodded and reached for his hand. Usually he was the one to do it, but it was now so natural to be holding him in some way that she didn't even think about her action. They talked about nothing in particular as they returned to the campsite.

"Wonder what dinner will be tonight," he said when they could see the first tent through the trees.

"I heard Elaine is cooking today, and everyone says she's the best." Hermione pushed a branch out of her way.

"If she's the one who made lunch, which was excellent, then I'm very excited for dinner."

They noticed upon entering the clearing that most of the members of the Collective were huddled near the central fire. Hermione and Draco exchanged a look and went to see what was going on. They caught snippets of conversation as they neared and then approached the first person they saw that they'd talked to before.

"What's going on?" Hermione asked Karen, a woman wearing a dark red shirt that they'd eaten lunch with the day before.

"The team is back. A group went out on a scouting mission a week ago and just returned."

Panic hit Hermione hard. Troy must surely be among the group, which meant that the one person with whom their counterparts had interacted was back. He was the one person who might notice they weren't quite who they claimed to be. When she looked at Draco, she guessed that his thoughts were in a similar vein, for his brow was furrowed and he appeared deep in thought.

After a few minutes, the crowd began to disperse. Hermione and Draco lingered, talking quietly and hoping to catch a glimpse of the team that had returned. Finally, enough people had moved that they could see the small group, huddled with Naylen and talking rapidly. Naylen turned to scan the crowd, and when his eyes fell on Draco, he pointed.

Hermione clenched his hand, her heart instantly pounding. She felt Draco tense as well and knew that things were about to get very dangerous.

Someone, presumably Troy, separated from the group and began walking towards them. It wasn't this man, however, who had caused such a strong reaction in them.

Standing beside Naylen, looking directly at them, was Theodore Nott.

**ooo**


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _In Dreams wrote this chapter._

* * *

The moment in which Hermione's gaze flickered to Draco's face, reading the masterfully crafted stoicism in his stare, was a much-needed reminder that their lives were at stake.

The bored lift and fall of his brows conveyed no recognition whatsoever to the fact that their former schoolmate—certainly a wizard, and likely a Death Eater as well—stood before them in the Muggle camp.

Seconds later, Draco's fingers curled around her own, giving her hand a squeeze in what could only be warning.

Granting him with her full attention again, she offered a banal smile, as if the return of a group of strangers was of only marginal interest.

The tension of Draco's grip, coupled with the warmth of a stare on the side of her head forced her attention back. For a brief instant, she met eyes with Theodore Nott before the man looked away, adjusting his bag.

Before Hermione could think any further on it, Troy was upon them, proffering a meaty hand.

"Phil, Beth," he said with a nod as he stepped back.

In Hermione's periphery, she could see Nott and the others who had just returned drift off towards Naylen's tent, presumably to discuss the mission, and she focused her attention on Troy.

Thankfully, the man wasn't keen to talk to them for long, appearing distracted, and when he bid them a good evening, Hermione released a tight breath that had been caught somewhere en route to her mouth.

Moments later, Draco slung a casual arm around her shoulders, drawing her lazily into his chest. Ducking his mouth to her ear, he murmured, "We don't know anything, yeah? Now more than ever, we need to watch ourselves."

When he drew back to meet her gaze, he offered her a salacious grin, as if he'd said something teasing in nature. Hermione noticed a few people look hurriedly away, knowing smiles on their faces.

Just Phil and Beth up to their newlywed antics again.

Biting down on her bottom lip, she smiled up at him. "Absolutely."

As time passed and they fell easier into the facade together, it was startling to realise she no longer had to try very hard at pretending. She carefully pinned the thought aside, as it would certainly do neither of them any good.

It gave them the perfect cover, however, when he pulled her away in the direction of their tent, because no one would question why they'd taken an early night together.

Once they were both safely in the tent, he spun towards her and dragged a hand through his hair. "What the hell just happened back there?"

"Theodore Nott isn't a Muggle," she replied with a grimace, careful to keep her voice down. "What do you think it means?"

Draco frowned, sinking into the cot and Hermione joined him. "It means he's infiltrated the Collective—but from the _other_ side. He's the leak Naylen's worried about." Staring at her for a long moment, a stern clench to his jaw, he finished, "Most importantly, he knows us. If the Draco from this universe was with the Death Eaters, they'll have known one another well."

"And he knows Draco and Hermione would never be married," Hermione added.

Making a face, he relaxed back, lacing his fingers behind his head. "He'll know it's all a cover because obviously we aren't actually Phil and Beth." His eyes slid sidelong towards her. "We learned what we were meant to about the device—the question _now_ is whether we should take off before Nott can expose us."

"Once we leave," Hermione whispered, "we can't come back." She rolled to face him, worrying her bottom lip. "It could be valuable information for the Order if we can learn what Nott is doing here."

"Probably the same as us. Trying to learn more about the device. If the Death Eaters can destroy or deactivate it, that'll leave these Muggles at a serious disadvantage." Narrowing his eyes, he added, "We need to figure out a way to play this in our favour. Nott won't want to be exposed any more than we do. Maybe he and Draco had enough goodwill between them that we can learn a thing or two from him before we go."

Releasing a sigh, Hermione turned to stare at the ceiling. "I keep asking myself to what extent _our_ involvement should be in all of this. We aren't from here and this isn't our fight. But I can't help the feeling that we need to see this through, and that will be our way to get back to our timeline."

"I think you're right."

Silence fell between them for a long moment, and Draco drummed the tips of his fingers on the nylon of their joined sleeping bags. "There's still the matter of finding _our_ device though and figuring out where that all went wrong. We can't stay here forever, but I think this development with Nott merits at least another day. We will have to see what we can learn tomorrow."

"Agreed." Hermione let out a long breath. Then her eyes darted back to him. "I think we should have our bags packed just in case. Nott might not be keen to talk."

"Good idea," he quipped, rising and stowing his few possessions into his bag as Hermione did likewise. "We might have to make a run for it."

They both froze, startled by the rustling of footsteps nearing the tent. Hermione could see a shadow stop and linger just beyond. Wide-eyed, she stared at Draco, tension thick in the tent.

Without warning, Draco rustled their sleeping bags with one hand and tickled her in the ribcage with the fingertips of the other. A bright laugh escaped her lips as she veered away from him instinctively, batting his hand from her side.

Continuing with his fabricated noise, he met her stare and his lips curled up with a smirk. Under his breath he whispered, "We're supposed to have snuck off for alone time, remember?"

Despite herself, Hermione released another soft giggle.

Moments later, the shadow carried on.

A breath of relief chased from her lungs and Draco collapsed onto the cot, burying his face in his hands. "This is getting ridiculous."

Considering the number of times she'd caught herself staring at him lately, she couldn't disagree. Especially since the staged kiss in the research tent—she could still remember the feel of his touch against her bare skin, and the way he'd engaged after his initial hesitation.

"Right." She managed a tight nod. "The sooner we can get out of here, the better. We'll see what we can learn tomorrow about Nott and decide from there."

Draco nodded, stripping his shirt over his head without warning. It was still light enough that she could see the ridges of muscle on his chest and abdomen, and she glanced away, feeling heat creep into her cheeks. Quietly he murmured, a teasing undertone in his words, "One would think you've seen me without my shirt enough times by now it shouldn't still bother you."

"It doesn't bother me," she returned, her voice a little strained as she looked back at him. "I'm only offering you privacy." He lifted his brows but didn't respond. At the smirk lingering on his lips she scowled, pressing on. "Besides, we aren't actually married. It isn't my place to stare."

Turning away from him again, she sat on the cot, tugging her jeans free and slipping her legs inside the sleeping bag as quickly as she could. She made sure to keep her clothes near in case trouble arose overnight. By the time she looked back up, he had dropped his jeans as well, but made no effort at modesty, despite being only in his shorts.

He slipped under the covers, his gaze flickering towards hers. "It doesn't bother _me_ if you stare."

As she tried to force herself to sleep, she couldn't help but ruminate on what, exactly, he meant.

* * *

When Hermione stirred awake the following morning, the soft light filtering through the walls of the tent suggested it was still early. Every morning felt like a gamble to determine how they would wake, and though Hermione wasn't certain which of them was moving so much in their sleep, more often than not, they awoke in some sort of compromising position. Especially since the cot didn't afford them a lot of space to begin with.

One of his arms was looped around her waist, the other acting as her pillow, but as she made to recoil, he shifted, drawing her against his bare chest.

She could admit to herself, if only in the lingering haze of sleep, that there was something enticing about his arms around her.

But it was the fact that his face was only inches from hers that set her heart racing. He released a low sound from his throat as he moved, his nose nudging hers, and she froze, heart racing, as his lips brushed against hers.

Hermione couldn't tell if he was truly awake, but when he kissed her again, the warmth of it shot through her and she leaned in, returning the soft contact.

Whether because it was habit at this point, or because she genuinely wanted to kiss him, she melted into him, opening her mouth to his when his hand grazed her cheek, tilting her face for better access.

It was the first kiss they had shared without pretence, and her sleep-addled mind raced at the thrill of it, her body flaring with awareness.

Against her mouth, he breathed, "Hermione," and his eyes fluttered open to meet hers.

For a long, extended moment, they only stared at one another, still close enough that their breaths mingled, and his expression was painfully stoic; she wished he would say something else.

His fingertips brushed her cheekbone again when he dragged them away; finally, his lips twitched with an uneasy smirk. "I meant Beth."

Hermione wrenched her stare from his, gazing hard at the roof of the tent. "Of course."

Clearing his throat, he bit out, "Sorry."

"It's alright."

"Habit," he muttered, "or something."

"Right." Hermione waved a blind hand to reach down for her jeans. "We'll just call it practice, yeah?"

"Practice." He snickered, but she could still feel his stare on her when she sat up, sliding into the trousers. "Beth, look…"

Lifting her brows, she turned back to face him, wrapping her curls into a messy pile atop her head. "Yes?"

Draco blew out a long breath. "I know we haven't talked about a lot of this, but are you alright?" When she frowned, hesitating, he added, "I mean with the acting bit."

It was uneasy territory, to discuss these sorts of things when they would soon leave the camp and whatever presently existed between them would no longer be necessary. Hermione wasn't certain she was ready to face anything else she was feeling that had come along with the _acting_.

Perhaps she hadn't been prepared for any of it.

"It's fine." The words slipped free of her lips of their own accord. "It's the best way to keep our cover and lower suspicions. And I know it isn't real, if that's what you're concerned about."

"That's not what I'm—" Clamping his lips shut, he cut himself off. "We'll be due at the creek soon."

Hermione only nodded, digging in her bag for the few hygiene supplies they'd been given, before proceeding to duck out of the tent.

Draco stepped out after her, almost stumbling on a small box near the door of their tent. Frowning, he picked it up, a furrow of consternation in his brow as he stared at it, and Hermione gaped in horror.

She hissed, snagging the box from his grip and tossing it back behind them into the tent. With a furtive glance around, she whispered, "Condoms. Muggle birth control—someone thinks they're having a laugh."

He only snorted, humour playing across his face, and eyed the box for a second before zipping the tent closed. Rolling her eyes, Hermione took off for the creek without him.

* * *

They'd reached the creek before most of the others in the camp were awake, and Hermione was able to enjoy a few moments of silence, only the slight rustle of wind in the trees and birdsong high above.

She slipped out of her shirt and jeans, wading into the chilly water in her underthings. As she submerged her hair, she did her best to comb out some of the tangles, wishing she had her proper hair potions. Since no one else was around, Draco had entered the creek simultaneously, and she could see him some distance away.

After a few minutes of adjustment, coupled with the warmth from the early sun above, the water grew comfortable and Hermione allowed herself to relax, a soft smile overtaking her lips.

Until she heard a cracking of branches and her eyes startled open, glancing around. She met Draco's gaze, but he only pressed a finger to his lips and moved closer. As he approached, he ducked his head, and murmured by her ear, "Someone's out there."

Hermione found herself oddly fixated on whether Draco still wore his shorts or not—whether he was fully nude. But her attention snapped back to whoever was in the trees. She could hear several heavy footsteps and then the sounds of male voices.

"This isn't good," one man said, his low voice carrying towards the creek well enough that Hermione could just hear if she focused.

"Nothing we can do about it now," another voice said. "We just have to make sure he doesn't suspect any further."

Hermione found Draco's stare, distracted but fixed on her, clearly listening in as well.

A third voice said something she couldn't catch and then hissed. "Did you hear that?"

Wincing, Hermione did her best to stay still in the water that was lapping against her with the slight breeze. In an instant, Draco looped an arm around her, drawing her towards him and pressing his temple against hers.

She heard the rustle of branches and brush once more and one of the men broke the edge of the clearing towards the creek before ducking back away; her heart jumped to realise it was their external contact, Troy. Hermione vaguely heard him murmur, "Just the newlyweds."

Another of the men snorted. "It's fine. Those two don't pay attention to anything but each other."

Hermione caught the smirk drift across Draco's lips as he met her stare. But she felt herself all too aware of the way he was pressed against her, and with their unintentional kiss that morning still fresh in her mind, she found her stare drop briefly to his mouth.

The men—three of them, she had surmised—fell silent for a tense, uncomfortable moment, and one of them muttered something she couldn't hear. There was a general snicker of amusement.

The third said, "The newlyweds—how long have they been here?"

Draco's grey eyes widened and he mouthed, _Nott_.

"Maybe a week or so," the last voice Hermione had yet to identify said quietly. "Good enough fighters. Not sure Naylen trusts them fully though."

"Naylen doesn't trust his own arse," Troy said, a nasty tone to his voice. The three shared another laugh. "All the more reason to get rid of him."

Hermione couldn't quite stop her sharp intake of breath, and the noise in the brush stopped. Heavy footsteps approached the clearing again, and before Hermione could even contemplate escaping the situation, Draco's mouth was on hers, his lips firm and insistent. The pressure of his hand on her back was a clear warning.

Burying her hands in his damp hair, Hermione sighed into the kiss as his tongue teased hers, wholly aware of the utter lack of space between them in the water. A hint of relief settled in her when she realised he wasn't fully nude.

Nerves and unease crept along her spine when she cracked an eye open to see the men lingering for a moment before one of them said under a breath, "Looks like we'd best leave them to it."

Even as she heard the retreat of footsteps, Draco didn't pull away, kissing her deeply, one arm coiled around her back and keeping her tightly against him. Hermione couldn't resist the feel of him, her eyes fluttering as he trailed a line of kisses along her jaw, her head falling to the side to oblige him as she skated a hand along the smooth muscle of his back beneath the water.

"Phil," she breathed, heart racing so hard it was a wonder she could even focus on anything else. "I think they're gone."

He tore away, breathing harshly, and his eyes darted to hers for a moment as he swallowed. "Did you see who the third was?"

"No." She forced her own heart rate to a heel. "Only Troy and Nott."

Belatedly, she realised her arms were still coiled around him, his face brushing against the side of her head as he spoke quietly by her ear. "So Troy is in league with Nott and someone else trying to take out Naylen?"

"Do you think Troy's a Death Eater?"

"Not according to Potter; we were told he was a Muggle. So what's he got against Naylen?" Draco ran a possessive hand up the length of her spine, sweeping her hair to the side. She didn't think they were still being watched, but she wasn't in a hurry to extricate herself from his hold. Just in case, of course.

Hermione shook her head. What they had just learned combined with Draco's proximity and overwhelming touch left her brain frantic and fuzzy. "I don't know, but clearly, Naylen doesn't have just one problem to deal with in the camp. Maybe Nott's persuaded Troy into something and he doesn't even know he's working with a Death Eater."

"Knowing the version of Nott _I_ know, I wouldn't put it past him. He's cunning as hell. Either way," Draco said quietly with a grimace, "we need to figure out what's going on here—and fast."

Nodding, she ignored the disappointment that swept through her when she untangled herself from his hold and waded towards the shore of the creek. Wrapping herself in a towel, she combed through her wet curls with her fingers, feeling Draco's stare on her.

Several minutes later they'd dried off well enough to dress, and shared a cautious look.

Hermione glanced up from fidgeting with her bag, surprise rapidly turning to dread when she saw Nott come up alongside Draco, clapping a hand tightly around his shoulder. Nott's hazel eyes flickered to hers, intense and scrutinising before he flashed the pair of them a facetious, winning smile.

"Old friend," Nott drawled, his grip on Draco's shoulder tightening. Draco's face remained carefully blank as his stare settled on her. "Is _this_ ever a surprise."

Releasing a tight breath, Draco rolled his neck and muttered, "Nott."

"I wasn't aware of _this_ particular proclivity." Nott raked his stare up her form with a smirk, "But I can't say it surprises me. Thin lines and all that." He hesitated, tension hanging between the three of them. "What _does_ surprise me is that you aren't _Muggles_."

Hermione folded her arms, staring him down. "Neither are you."

Nott relinquished his grip on Draco, holding up his hands in a placating gesture. "Obviously. So the question here is: how are we going to deal with this? We _could_ simply proceed as if none of us know each other, assuming we're all here for _more or less_ the same reasons, and leave it there."

Draco folded his arms, turning to face Nott with narrowed eyes. "Our reasons don't involve giving Riddle an advantage in the war. So _that_ isn't going to work."

With a flicker of his brows, Nott stepped away, turning to leave. "Fine. You'll expose me; I'll expose you. I suppose we'll see who Naylen believes. My guess would be his loyal sentry who's been here for three months, but maybe you'll get lucky."

"Nott," Draco ground out through a clenched jaw and the man froze mid-step, a mischievous smile lingering on his face. "We won't be here much longer. If you and I had _any_ trust—just let us go. We won't try to interfere with what you're doing here."

The smile fell from Nott's lips, replaced by consternation. "You know we did, Draco. You had your reasons for walking away after Lucius was killed and I don't hold that against you." With a quick glance around, he lowered his voice. "But that doesn't mean I can just let you walk off to the Order with what you've presumably learned here."

Hermione narrowed her eyes, glancing between them. It was like walking on thin ice; while Draco and Theo may have been friends in their timeline, they didn't know anything about the version of Theodore Nott from this dimension.

Quietly she asked, "What do you want?"

Clicking his tongue, Nott absently toed the ground with his boot. "I want out." It was so quiet Hermione wasn't even certain she'd heard him.

Her eyes blew wide with shock and she met Draco's startled expression for an instant before he carefully schooled it into a frown.

"What do you mean? Out of the Collective?"

Theo stared hard at Draco for a long moment. "You walked away from Riddle and survived. I won't turn you in to Naylen if you take me with you when you go. To the Order." His voice dropped again. "I know things you wouldn't believe."

Of all possible scenarios Hermione had considered, this wasn't one of them. She had anticipated Nott would pose a threat—unless it was all merely a trick. Draco had suggested the man to be cunning.

The problem remained that they didn't know _how_ Draco had managed to get away from Riddle with his life in the first place.

"Look, Theo," Draco said, tugging at his hair. "I don't know if we can help you."

Nott's face flashed. "Why not?"

Thinning his lips, Draco stared at Hermione for long enough that she could see the cogs whirring in the back of his mind. She could see the question in his stare and didn't know the answer. But if Nott was telling the truth, he could prove more than useful as an asset not only to them inside the camp, but to the Order.

With a noncommittal gesture, she mused, "I'll leave this one to you."

Draco finally turned from her with a grimace. "This is going to sound bloody insane, but… Granger and I aren't from this timeline. We don't know what happened, but we woke up here last week and we've been trying to figure out a way home. We think it has something to do with the device, but none of this is familiar to us. In our world, the war ended in seventh year and Riddle's dead."

A heavy furrow sat on Nott's brow as he listened with a deep frown. "What do you mean—like inter-dimensional travel? That's even possible?"

"It is," Hermione offered, "but it isn't well documented— _or_ understood. Our hope is that by seeing all of this through, we'll be able to find our way home. Presumably, the Draco and Hermione from _your_ timeline are stuck there."

Sucking a breath in through his teeth, Nott shook his head. "I don't know—this makes things more complicated. Are you working with the Order or not?"

"We are," Draco allowed. "But we don't really know what we're doing. When we stumbled across one another, Granger thought to go see Potter and we ended up dragged into all _this_. All we were meant to do was learn about how the device operates."

"And Potter is trying to defeat Riddle?" Nott's brows lifted as he glanced between them.

Draco and Hermione shared a look and a nod.

"Then I'm coming with you," he announced, his expression darkening. "You—or the _other_ Draco, anyway—aren't the only one who's suffered at Riddle's hand. I'd gladly see the bastard dead."

Something in Nott's gaze, and in the way he had transitioned from flippant to serious, registered in the back of Hermione's mind. Despite not knowing the man at all, she believed him. And she felt as if they had no choice but to rely on this Theo's pre-existing relationship with the other Draco.

"Fine," Draco huffed with a nod, obviously on the same wavelength. "We haven't worked out a plan yet but we'll need to get out soon." He hesitated for a moment, turning narrowed eyes on Nott once more. "What was that about with Troy? About taking out Naylen?"

"Troy and Roger don't like the way Naylen's running things," Nott said with an apprehensive look around. In the distance, Hermione could hear voices and she realised they'd long overstayed their time at the creek. "Internal strife—he's been sending people on missions inadequately prepared and we lost a few men on the last one." With a bit of a grimace, he added, "I've proven myself more useful here than I ever meant to, but it means these guys trust me with their lives."

The footsteps grew closer and the three of them kept a cautious eye on the bushes.

Draco shouldered his pack. "We'd better go. Keep in touch."

"We can meet after training," Nott whispered. "I know a place. Keep watch for me."

With that, he ducked into the trees along the other side of the creek.

Hermione exchanged a grim look with Draco. "I suppose we're in this now."

He offered an uneasy smile in return. "We'd better hope this isn't the wrong call. Breakfast awaits."

* * *

All through training that day Hermione felt herself going through the motions, but internally, her brain was elsewhere. If they left the Collective, there would be no returning without drawing suspicions; surely there was still more to learn.

But they needed to report in with the Order, and the longer they stayed behind with information that could prove vital, the longer they delayed everything else.

Furthermore, Hermione didn't know whether they could trust Nott. She had deferred the situation to Draco because he, at least, knew the man's character back home; they'd been housemates and friends at Hogwarts.

She could only hope the same was true here and that Nott hadn't been leading them on when he'd said he and Draco had been friends as Death Eaters.

If he _was_ telling the truth…

Having one of Riddle's top Death Eaters at their side could prove to be invaluable too. Combined with his inner knowledge of the Muggle camp, Nott could be a strong ally for the Order to have.

She'd felt his eyes on her periodically throughout the day, and she knew Draco was contemplating the same. He'd nearly allowed her to overpower him in the sword fighting ring, a feat to which she'd never even come close before.

When they broke for lunch, Draco was curiously quiet, and Hermione nudged him beneath the table, firing him a look. He only offered a slow grin and a wink in return; her stomach flipped in somersaults.

With the excitement that had occurred with Nott by the creek, she'd hardly had time to process the heated kisses they'd shared with their bare skin pressed together in the cool water. Of course, it had been for show, like all the rest, but paired with the kiss early that morning, the situation between them had started to feel less like an act and more like the real thing.

It was to be expected, given they had grown more comfortable with one another at an almost alarming pace.

She was trying to force herself to come to terms with the fact that it was a temporary act, and as soon as they left the camp that would be the end of it. So the thought of leaving the Collective felt oddly bittersweet.

"You alright?" Draco eyed her across the table as they finished up with their lunch. "I know this has been a lot to take in."

Hermione glanced up, startled, before offering a smile. "Of course."

It certainly wasn't safe to discuss anything of great importance in the meal area, even quietly and alone, and he only returned with a brief smile of his own. She felt the warmth of it simmer below the surface of her skin and she looked away.

That afternoon they were slated for archery. Though Hermione did her best to focus, she knew her aim was off compared to previous days, and she hoped the instructor hadn't picked up on anything. She couldn't keep her mind from spinning over everything that had happened since the mission squad had returned to the camp the evening prior.

Finally, after what felt like several days, their training schedule came to an end. It wasn't their day to work in the food tent, so Hermione and Draco drifted towards the creek to quell the heat of the afternoon and the strain from their end of day strength training.

They sat along the edge of the creek, letting their bare feet dangle into the water, and Draco took her hand into his, entwining their fingers. It was a peaceful moment, and they were few and far between so she allowed herself a moment to bask in the simplicity of it.

When Draco tensed, she followed his gaze to see Nott lingering near the bend in the creek where it curved off into the woods.

Ducking in, he pressed a lingering kiss to her temple and murmured, "If something feels off, we get out."

Flashing him a doleful smile, she nodded and briefly leaned into his side before rising to her feet and slipping her shoes back on. They had left their packs ready to go inside their tent, but there was no cause for them to have them at the creek. If they needed to make a sudden run for it, they would simply have to go without their things and hope they could get far enough away before the perimeter guards caught them.

The plan could backfire in so many ways, and nerves crept up along her spine as they casually meandered in the direction Nott had vanished.

Hermione was grateful for Draco's reassuring presence at her side; she had to force herself to believe it would all work out.

At a sharp hiss, she looked up, just barely managing to make out Nott's form through the thick brush as they ventured towards him.

"When are you leaving?" Nott asked by way of greeting, staring between them with an expectant lift to his brows.

Hesitant, Hermione exchanged a glance with Draco. "When we have as much information as we need."

Nott rolled his eyes. "I have more information than you lot will dig up."

Draco levied a sigh, leaning back against a nearby tree. "Excuse us if we don't instantly trust you. We need information about the device and how it activates."

"I know." Nott's tone bordered on irreverent. "I don't expect you to trust me—but we're working towards the same end. I was sent in here by Riddle, I'll grant you that, but that doesn't mean I've been passing him what he needs."

"Sounds dangerous," Hermione mused.

His eyes flashed towards hers. "It is. Which is why I need an out. He'll grow suspicious of my information sooner than later."

It certainly explained why he was in a rush to leave the Collective. Hermione felt a tinge of regret for the people they'd come to know, and those who had helped them out. Some of the Muggles had begun to feel like friends.

But she was reminded of the hissed conversation that morning in the woods. Naylen still wasn't sure he could trust them. Their days were numbered, and even in this world, her loyalty was to Harry and the Order.

"You know about the device?" Draco asked with skepticism, folding his arms. " _Everything_ about it?"

"Draco." Nott huffed a laugh, clicking his tongue. "I was on the team that built it. Like I told you—I've been here for months—I have more information than you can imagine."

Hermione sucked in a breath, exchanging a glance with Draco. He was a more shrewd judge of character, and he stared hard at Nott for a moment before nodding. "Very well."

"I am willing to tell you and the Order everything I know." Nott stepped closer and dropped his voice. Hermione cast a look around them. "But as soon as Riddle learns I've betrayed him, he'll be after my blood. I need a guarantee the Order can offer me safety."

Adrenaline spiked in her veins at the thought, and Hermione forced a thick swallow. They didn't know enough about the Order in this timeline, but they'd obviously held their own this long in a vicious and sustained war.

But Nott's information could prove priceless in ending the war.

"I can't make promises on others' behalf," she breathed, "but I know the Order is strong. And if you're willing to divulge information about the device and Riddle's forces, they'll do everything they can."

With a grimace, he nodded. "That'll have to be good enough. It is war, after all."

"So," Draco said quietly, exchanging a glance with each of them in turn. "Are we doing this tonight?"

Steeling her courage, Hermione nodded. It was a change in circumstances from what they'd expected, but she had to believe Nott was telling the truth— _or_ by bringing a Death Eater into the Order they could be ensuring everyone's demise.

"Fine," Nott whispered. "There's a gap in patrols between a quarter to ten and quarter past. It will be our best shot to slip past undetected. And for Merlin's sake, don't do anything to draw attention to yourselves between now and then. Meet me here and I'll get you out."

* * *

Dinner was fraught with tension, though Hermione did her best to school her fears behind a banal facade. They'd rolled up their sleeping bags and left the tent as they'd found it after returning from their clandestine meeting in the woods with Nott.

It was the least they could do.

Hermione couldn't help the creeping suspicion that something was going to go wrong. Even if they made it safely through the Collective's perimeter, and even if Nott was telling the truth, she couldn't imagine Naylen's vengeance would go unmet if he learned he'd been deceived.

They had determined it would mount the least interest if they stayed with the group after dinner, so they took up a spot on one of the log benches near the large fire pit, watching as the sun dropped below the horizon, the sky inching towards purples and indigoes before finally falling pitch.

Hermione caught Draco's gaze, the bright flare of the fire dancing in his eyes. Stifling a wide yawn, he glanced at his watch before offering her a heated stare and coiling his arm around her.

"Just about time to turn in, I think." He spoke loudly enough for the people immediately around them to hear. "Been a long day."

Offering her agreement, Hermione rose to her feet with a small wave, and they ventured towards the tent in silence.

With careful, precise movements, so as not to rustle anything, given their tent was close to the common area, they gathered their things, loading up with the weapons they'd seized from the Muggles near her old flat. Unzipping the tent, Draco peeked through the flaps, his eyes narrowing in the darkness before he stepped out. He quickly zipped the door closed once more when she followed him through.

As he met her stare with a sharp nod, he led her between the tents, their steps careful. A soft breath of relief escaped her lips when they breached the treeline near the creek.

At some point between the creek and where they had met with Nott after training, he fell into step silently alongside them with a stern nod. Hermione could see the hard clench of his jaw in the hints of moonlight filtering through the canopy above, and idly she wondered whether he was nervous too.

"Wands?" he hissed, casting them a sidelong glance.

"Not on us," Draco whispered. "Couldn't risk it."

Hermione knew it wasn't technically a lie. Though why Draco was reluctant to tell Nott where their wands were stored, she wasn't sure. She knew their wands were in the forest, but following Draco's lead, she remained silent. They wouldn't have a chance to retrieve them yet anyway, with the limited window to escape.

Nott nodded. "Good. The device covers a wider range than you'd think."

"How are we getting out?" Hermione winced as a branch snapped between her feet.

Nott's arm flew out in front of them and he took cover behind a sturdy trunk; Hermione and Draco followed suit, ducking down into the thick brush. Several moments later, the heavy footfalls of two men went by, and she caught their shadows through the trees, hefty sidearms strapped to their sides.

Glancing at Draco's watch, Hermione noted it was a few minutes past when Nott had suggested the gap in patrols began. If he had been honest with them, they would have a half an hour before the next patrol came through the area. When they caught Nott's stare, he gestured ahead with two fingers and ventured forward once more.

With a grimace, Hermione followed, Draco at her side.

They walked for another fifteen minutes, blindly trusting that Nott wasn't about to betray them, before he stopped dead in a small clearing, staring at several trees. Apparently satisfied, he approached one, reaching into a hollow in the trunk and withdrawing a wand.

Casting them both a look, he reached further into the hollow, his entire arm swallowed up in the trunk, before he extracted what looked to be a rusty spoon.

He flashed them a grin and Draco murmured, "Portkey?"

As Nott cast a quick _Portus_ , the spoon glowed blue, and Hermione was struck with the idea that he'd done this more than once. Presumably to report in with Riddle.

"Where is it going?" she asked, exchanging a cautious glance with Draco. For all they knew Nott was leading them into a trap, and she didn't relish the thought of taking hold of an unknown Portkey from someone she didn't quite trust.

"Away from here." Nott glanced up to meet her stare. "That's all you should care about right now. It will take us somewhere safe for the night, and tomorrow you're taking me to see the Order."

The reminder of his intentions did little to quell her unease, and she dragged Draco away.

"What do you think?" she whispered.

Sweeping a hand through his hair, he grimaced and replied, "I don't think we have a choice. We won't be able to walk back to London on foot and our wands are still stored in that tree on the other side of the camp. I wasn't sure if we should tell him that." He met her eyes, his gaze hard. "If we don't trust Theo, we need to decide right now."

They both knew it was hardly an option anymore. Nott had a wand in his hand, and while they had Muggle weapons, their own wands were hidden too far away, and he could drop them dead by the time they were able to attack if he wanted to.

Hermione breathed, "I guess we have to trust him."

Nott was leaning against a tree, eyeing his fingernails and twirling his wand in one hand, when they returned. She caught his point loud and clear and stepped forward with a nod.

"Safety tonight, and we'll take you to the Order tomorrow," she confirmed. "That's the deal."

"Great." Pushing off from the tree, Nott waved a hand at the Portkey. "For the record, if I wanted you dead I'd have drowned you in the creek this morning. And if I wanted to betray you, I would have just given you over to Naylen."

The flippant assessment of their circumstances did little to settle her nerves; in fact, it only served to remind her how much power Nott had over them in that moment.

Nott tapped the spoon with his wand once more, brandishing it out towards them. "It's set to go in one minute."

Taking Draco's hand in hers for reassurance, Hermione placed a finger on the spoon, and with a flicker of a glance, he followed suit. The old spoon pulsed the seconds as it counted down to its departure, and suddenly Nott's eyes snapped up at a rustling in the woods.

"I thought you said the patrols weren't due for another ten minutes," Draco growled, swivelling his head around.

"They aren't," Nott snapped back. "Something must have tipped them off."

Hermione could hear shouting, but she forced herself to focus on the Portkey, even as doubts swirled in the back of her mind. But she believed Nott; he would be just as incriminated if the three of them were caught out here, and he was the one holding a wand.

The steps drew closer and Draco's hand tightened in hers. A man broke through the trees, levelling a gun in their direction just as the Portkey flared, pulling them into a twist of magic with a bright flash of blue.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Floorcoaster wrote this chapter._

They landed in a dark room that felt large, the pop of their arrival echoing off the walls, but before Hermione could even blink, Draco sprang into action. Their hands were still clasping the Portkey when Draco grabbed Theo's arm, wrested his wand away, and pointed it at him.

It happened too quickly; Theo didn't have time to resist.

"Malfoy!" Hermione exclaimed, stunned. "What are you doing?"

"Taking some control of this situation, Granger." Draco stood, his face hard as stone, and Theo's wand in his hand still pointed at the other man's heart. "We have no idea where we are, our wands are back in that forest, and for all we know, this could be one giant trap. Is this a trap?"

Theo merely looked bored. "I thought you trusted me."

"Is this a trap, Theo?" Draco's voice was clipped and unlike anything Hermione had heard from him before. She suspected she was seeing a little bit of the young man he'd been during the war, who'd been forced into all sorts of situations and had to fight his way through any way possible.

"No, it's not a trap, Draco. You think the Death Eaters would use this place as a safe house?" He indicated the filthy room.

Draco never took his eyes off Nott, but Hermione surveyed their surroundings for the first time. From what she could tell, they were in a large building that hadn't been used in ages. There was dust and filth everywhere, the few high windows were mostly broken, and it smelled of rot and mold. The only light was the thin, pale moonlight that leaked in through the slim windows. She remembered that Voldemort had set up his headquarters at Malfoy Manor in their timeline, the richest, most luxurious home in all of wizarding England. She doubted very much that in this, albeit grittier timeline, he'd choose a location such as this.

"If you're anything like the Theo Nott I know, you're only in this for yourself. Nothing will happen to you as long as you're telling the truth." With his eyes locked on Theo, Draco shifted the wand from his right hand to his left, then pulled his gun from where he'd tucked it in the waist of his trousers. Unclicking the safety, he now pointed the gun at Theo and took a few steps back. "Granger, take this." He held the wand out to her. "Go and retrieve our wands from the forest where we left them a week ago, then come back here."

"We should talk about this." She took the wand, feeling instantly more herself and at ease, despite the wand in her hand not being her own. With a quick flick, she Conjured a chair. "Sit." Theo rolled his eyes but complied. She then tied him up with magical binding.

"Trust me. We can't let Nott have all the power in this. If he really wants to join the Order, he won't resist, and everything will turn out fine. But we have no idea where we are, we're far from our wands, and I won't rest easy until there's some balance."

Theo chuckled. "I'm only putting up with this because we've always been mates, Draco. And, if I'm completely honest, I'd be doing the same thing were our situations reversed."

"Are you sure about this?" Hermione searched Draco's face but he didn't let his eyes wander from their prisoner.

He gave a curt nod. "Go. And get back here."

She squeezed his hand, and he blinked, his jaw tightening. "All right. I'll be back in a few minutes." She took a few steps away from Draco, her heart pounding. There was something unsettling about the scene before her, Theo bound to a chair and Draco pointing a gun at him, but she couldn't dwell on it. All she could think as she Apparated back to another part of the forest they'd fled only minutes before was that she hoped everything would be the same when she returned.

The loud _pop!_ of her arrival made her wince, but there was nothing to do. She simply had to hurry. It took her a moment to get her bearings, but they'd placed a magical signature on the tree where they'd hidden their wands, and once she waved Theo's wand and located it about thirty paces away, she started for it.

When she was ten feet from the tree, she heard the sound of a gun cocking. "Don't move."

Hermione froze. In the moonlight, she saw Naylen step out from a shadow, his weapon trained on her head. His expression was grim. "Well. Hello there, Beth." He tilted his head. "Beth, Beth. Where's Phil? You two have been practically stitched together since I met you, and now you're all alone." He tutted and walked slowly around her. Hermione focused on keeping her breathing steady, her eyes straight ahead while not staring directly at the tree she needed to reach. Perhaps she could Summon the wands; she had Theo's in her hand.

Naylen continued, brandishing a walkie talkie. "My men tell a strange tale, Beth. According to their reports, you were on the other side of the forest just two minutes ago. It's a few miles walk from here to there, and this spot isn't even inside our perimeter. Yet here you are, all alone." He stopped in front of her. "This gives me some important information, Beth. It tells me that you're a witch."

She gripped the wand tighter, and Naylen's gaze darted down to it. His eyes glittered when he realised what she held.

"Ah, and here's the proof, if I needed any more. Hand it over, Beth."

Her heart stopped, and her breath caught in her throat. It took every ounce of control not to react, not to show Naylen that she was scared. She forced herself to look at him coolly, as though nothing he said or demanded affected her, and held out the wand for him to take. He did, examining it carefully. Then before she knew what was happening, he snapped it in two, sparks of raw magic shooting out. He pocketed the two halves and resumed speaking.

"So you're a Death Eater, then?" he asked, reaiming the gun.

"No. Never."

A look of surprise showed on his face. "No? I thought all your kind were Death Eaters. In league with Voldemort, bent on killing all of us non-magical people."

"I'm not the type of witch Voldemort would want on his side." She clenched her jaw. "I believe there's a peaceful way through this war, where magical and non-magical people can live side by side."

Naylen gaped at her, then barked a harsh laugh. "That's complete bullshit, Beth. There's no future in that. But tell me, why wouldn't Voldemort want you? And what were you doing infiltrating my group? I hear you left with one of my best Commanders, too? Did you threaten him? Take him hostage?"

"My parents are not magical. Voldemort hates my kind." She hoped against all hope that this might be true in this timeline; but perhaps he'd decided that he'd have a larger army if he welcomed all kinds. Of course, he'd seemed okay with using half-bloods, so maybe even in her own time he'd have welcomed anyone with the kind of hate he possessed.

Again, Naylen seemed surprised. "Ah. So then you're part of a rebellion, even among your kind?"

"Something like that." There was a really good chance she could Summon the wands non-verbally. She hadn't used magic in a week, so it was simmering just under the surface, waiting, and with her heightened state of duress, she was almost certain that she'd succeed.

"Why did you come?" He looked genuinely curious. "You only stayed a week, that doesn't seem like enough time to do much of anything."

Hermione realized in that instant that there was a good chance he intended to kill her. She could use this to her advantage, and if she got away, she might have useful intel to report. "The device. We learned that you're working on some way of detecting magic."

Naylen's eyes widened and then he chuckled. "Of course! Yes, the device. Which is why you were in the tent that night." He shook his head. "Although the report on that makes me think you and Phil got a bit distracted from what you were supposed to be doing. You couldn't have been in there for five minutes before we noticed you. Not very good at this, are you, Beth?"

She shrugged. "First time."

"According to Troy, you and Phil were highly competent and promising individuals. Huh. And I know you two weren't my mole; I've been suspicious for weeks." He stared at her curiously for a long moment. "I'm nearly satisfied. What about my Field Commander? What have you done with him?"

Hermione said nothing about Theo. Just in case he'd been telling the truth, she couldn't risk endangering him or she and Draco. Without knowing more, there was simply no safe answer. "I doubt you'll ever see him again."

"No, likely not. Well then, Beth. Shall I tell you a little tale?" Naylen relaxed a bit and leaned against a tree, his weapon still pointed at her. "Your hostage knew a lot but he didn't know everything. Only I and one other person know what I'm about to tell you. It concerns that device you were so curious about."

She swallowed. By willingly giving her information, he'd all but confirmed that he was planning to kill her. Even though she felt reasonably sure that she could get away, it still chilled her to the bone. He seemed so light about it, casual, as though he killed people every day. He probably did.

"What about it?" Her voice was raspy, and Naylen grinned evilly, interpreting this as fear. Good. Let him underestimate her.

"It's far more complete and advanced than anyone knows, and it can do much more than simply locate magic traces. We can use it to put a trace of our own onto a person or an object. For example, I've done this with you."

Her blood froze. "What do you mean?"

"Before I stopped you in the woods just now, I used the device to tag you, if you will." He pulled a small, handheld electronic device from his pocket and showed it to her. What they'd thought was the device, a large, tube-shaped object covered with a cloth in the tent, hadn't been it at all. Her heart sank; all that work was for nothing. He pocketed the device once more and pulled another gun from a holster at his waist. "Now this gun shoots a very special bullet. It's designed to find that trace and hit it, no matter how far away I am when I shoot it."

She sucked in a breath, truly frightened for the first time.

"We've not had an opportunity to test it yet." The look he gave her now was predatory. "But since you're here, and you're a witch—I don't really care if you aren't in Voldemort's army—seems like a good time to try it out." He tucked his regular gun in the holster and took the tracing gun in both hands. "Now, it's not really sporting if I don't give you a chance, and besides, I want to see how this thing tracks. So, I'm going to give you ten seconds to run before I shoot. Are we clear, Beth?"

Hermione nodded, her mind on her escape plan. She'd run straight for the tree, which wouldn't be easy considering all the undergrowth, and if she reached it, she'd grab the wands and Disapparate. If she hadn't made it to the tree in eight seconds, she'd try to Summon the wands and Apparate. Without a wand, it might not work, but it was her only chance.

"Right then." Naylen grinned. "Ready?"

She started to run before he told her to, her heart pounding and adrenaline rushing through her veins.

"Oh, Beth! That wasn't on!" Naylen laughed. "One! Two! Three! Four!"

She wasn't going to make it; the brambles were too thick and catching on her clothes.

"Five!"

Only just halfway to the tree now, and the path was thicker ahead than behind.

"Six! Seven!"

Hermione stilled her thoughts and prepared to cast a spell with no wand.

"Eight!"

"Accio wands!" she shouted, hand outstretched.

"Ni—What did you say?"

The tree ahead of her rustled as the wands, disguised as branches, dislodged themselves from the tree and flew at her. Then everything seemed to slow down. Hermione watched the wands approaching, her hand reaching, her fingers, extended as far as she could make them go.

She heard a gunshot, and knew that Naylen hadn't bothered to count to ten.

Something ripped into her leg at the same instant that her hand closed on the wands and a pain unlike any she'd ever felt tore through her. Using every bit of strength she had, Hermione refused to think about the searing pain and focused on her destination, the warehouse. She was more determined to escape than she could ever remember being, and with all the deliberation she could muster, she turned on the spot and vanished with a _crack!_

ooo

Draco was a ball of nerves. She'd been gone far too long, and if something had happened to her, he would never forgive himself. He'd thought he'd given her the safer task of retrieving their wands, leaving him to guard Theo. But the other wizard had done nothing but blink and sigh. As the minutes wore on, however, even Theo became uneasy.

When a _crack! s_ plit the air, they both turned in time to see Hermione arrive, then immediately collapse, blood pooling around her.

"Fuck!" Draco rushed to Hermione's side, searching desperately for where she'd been hurt. When he found a round wound on the inside of her thigh, he didn't know what to do.

"She's been shot," Theo said from his chair, his voice anxious. "She needs help. Fast. Take her to St. Mungo's."

Draco nodded and tried to gather her in his arms. Their wands spilled from her hands and he quickly grabbed them.

"Hey! I can help, let me out!"

Without sparing Theo a glance, Draco released him from the bonds. Theo was by their side in seconds, worry etched on his face. "Where's my wand?"

"Don't know. Don't care." Draco stood, astonished at how easy it was to pick Hermione up.

"It's the adrenaline," Theo said, answering his unspoken question. He ripped a strip off his shirt and tied it around Hermione's leg. "Shit. This is pulsing, the bullet hit an artery. We have to go _now._ "

Hermione moaned just then and Draco looked at her. "We're going to St. Mungo's, Hermione. Hold on."

Just as he was about to Apparate, she spoke. "No. _Harry."_

"Bloody hell." He looked at Theo for help with this impossible decision. It seemed like her very life was draining away right in front of him.

"Whatever she says." Theo nodded rapidly, and Draco knew that he, too, was struggling.

"Fine." Draco thrust into Theo's mind, sent him a picture of the street where Order Headquarters was located, and said, "Meet us there. I'll collect you as soon as I can."

Theo nodded and Draco focused on not Splinching himself as he Apparated to Grimmauld Place. He was running as soon as his feet hit the ground, pushing away the nausea that threatened to overwhelm him at the task of Apparating with an unconscious and bleeding Hermione Granger in his arms. When he got to the door, he pounded on it, finally kicking it open to slam into the wall as he barged in.

"Potter!" he screamed. "Potter!"

People came running from every room, gasping when they saw Hermione limp in Draco's arms.

A woman Draco thought looked vaguely familiar rushed in, took one look at Hermione, and started working. Draco recognised some of the spells as diagnostic in nature, and he suspected the woman was a Healer.

"She was shot." His voice broke.

The woman nodded. "I gathered from the tourniquet. That was quick thinking, but she's lost a lot of blood. I need her downstairs in my operating suite."

Someone came and offered to take Hermione, but Draco shoved past him, following the woman with a singular focus. They descended two flights of stairs, finally emerging into a hallway. The woman led him into the first door on the left, a bright, well-lit room with a metal table in the center.

"Lay her down."

Draco complied at once, and the woman began ripping Hermione's clothes off to get at the wound. It was high on her inner thigh, and there was so much blood Draco didn't see how she could survive. Others flooded into the room, donning masks and gloves and special robes, and Draco was slowly pushed aside as everybody forgot him in their rush to save Hermione.

When his back hit the wall, Draco slid to the floor. He only then registered that he was shaking uncontrollably. He felt sick. But he couldn't focus on that right now; Hermione was bleeding out on the table not three feet away, and it wasn't possible, it just simply wasn't possible that she might die. Not Hermione Granger.

He propped his elbows in his knees and bought his hands to his head, belatedly realising they were covered in blood.

Her blood.

"I've got it."

A tiny, metallic click followed, but Draco didn't look up. He couldn't bear to watch, despite the collective gasps and relieved sighs from others in the room.

"The bullet severed the femoral artery, but we got to it just in time. I've repaired the damage there and will move on to the less urgent areas. She needs Blood Replenishing Potion stat and someone start an IV of antibiotics and fluids."

Three people stepped away from the table and Draco caught a glimpse of Hermione's hand resting limply on the table. The same hand he'd held as they walked through the Collective camp, from one training session to another, to the creek and back, the hand he had held onto in the dark of night when terror and doubt had threatened to swallow him.

After what felt like hours, during which Draco was barely aware of anything except Hermione's hand, the group of people attending to her began to disperse, removing gloves and bloody gowns and patting each other on the back.

"Well done, Healer Patil."

The name registered in his brain and drew Draco from his thoughts just as the woman herself spoke to him. She knelt down so that she could speak to him face to face.

"Malfoy? She's going to be fine."

At her words, something inside him broke open and he let out a shuddering groan, dropping his head to his knees. His heart was still pounding but he found that he could take deep breaths again. "Thank you." His voice, though, was still shaky, exactly the way he felt.

"You did the right thing, bringing her to me. Mungo's might have been too late." He nodded mutely. Patil smiled. "She's resting. I imagine she'll need a day or two of rest, but then she'll be good as new." Her eyes flitted over his face. "Looks like you could do with some rest yourself. But before that..."

She trailed off, her gaze drawn to the door of the surgical suite. Draco followed her line of sight and saw Harry standing there, his eyes on Hermione. With him was Ron and one of the Weasley twins.

Patil pulled off her surgical gear and went to speak to the group that had gathered. Draco slowly forced himself to stand, knowing he had to tell them what had happened to the best of his ability.

The Healer patted Draco on the back when he joined her. "Take it easy on this one, yeah? He's a bit of a mess. Hasn't left her side." With that, she left Draco to face Hermione's friends.

Draco heaved a giant breath, but Harry held up his hand. "Wait. I have orders to take you to the kitchen first. Come on."

Ron and his brother went on ahead while Harry waited for Draco. "I take it you're never seen a gunshot wound before?"

Draco shook his head.

"Bloody hell. You really aren't from here, are you?" Harry chuckled. "Don't answer that. I know it's true, but it didn't seem quite real before. But you look... Well, you look pale as a sheet and half dead to boot. Listen, they're gathering as many of the Order as they can to hear your story, but it'll take a little time. Molly figures you need to eat, and from the look of you, you need a pint. Or three. I can get you started with the latter, but only after the meeting." Harry indicated a door for Draco to walk through.

He did so, his stomach protesting the onslaught of smells that hit him upon entering the kitchen. A woman who could only be Ron's mother looked up from where she stood over the stove, orchestrating the preparation of various dishes like a conductor.

"Oh, Draco, dear, have a seat." She left the stove and bustled over to him, bringing a prepared tray covered with tea things. "Help yourself to whatever you need. Does anything sound good? When did you last eat?"

Draco had no idea what time it was. "We ate dinner at… seven or so." Somewhat mechanically, he began to prepare a cup of tea.

"Merlin's beard, you must be famished. It's nearly seven in the morning!"

Draco looked up at that, astonished that twelve hours could have passed since their last meal—and he'd been awake for most of it. Even still, nothing sounded very good. "I'll have some toast, I suppose. If you've got any."

"Coming right up." Molly smiled genially and set to work.

A woman with long, red hair sat down across from him, her hands wrapped around her own teacup. "How is Hermione?"

To Draco's relief, Harry answered. "She's going to be fine. Malfoy got her here in time for Padma to set everything to rights. Got the bullet out—it's a strange bugger, one we've never seen." He glanced at Draco. "But I suppose we'll get that story later. The good news is she'll make a full recovery. Though I doubt she'll be anxious for another assignment any time soon."

Draco wanted to say that the only thing they'd be doing from then on was working to get home, but he thought he'd better not; he didn't know who among the Order knew the truth.

Harry sat down beside the woman with a plate of bangers. "Something else to prepare for, Malfoy. We've got Theodore Nott in a holding cell downstairs. Claims he's with you?"

"That's right." Molly set a plate in front of Draco with three pieces of fresh toast, three pats of butter, and an assortment of jellies. "Thank you. He claims he wants to defect. We wouldn't have got out so easily without him."

Harry whistled and the woman raised an eyebrow. "You call one of you getting shot an easy exit?"

"I don't really know how that happened," he admitted quietly.

"You what?" Harry cried, incredulous.

"Now, dear, let's wait to hear him out."

"But Mum! How can he not know what happened to her?" Draco received not his first utter shock that day when he realised that the woman sitting opposite him was Harry's mother. He should have recognized her from her green eyes, but he'd assumed she was a Weasley from the red hair.

Molly returned with another plate of food for Harry and some cut up fruit for Draco. "Now, now, let's wait and hear what he has to say. Let the man eat, he's been up all night, worried for Hermione. He's filthy and needs a shower—give him some space."

Draco grudgingly thanked Mrs. Weasley and tucked in to his food. Nobody bothered him while he ate, for which he was grateful. When he'd eaten the toast and fruit, the rest of his appetite woke and he ate two full plates of bangers and mash, much to Molly's delight. When he couldn't eat another bite, he pushed his plate away and yawned, stretching his body to its limit. It had been a long time since his last sleep, and now that his stomach was full, his body was reminding him of that fact.

"Done?" Harry finished his cup of tea, poured a second, and motioned for Draco to follow.

"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley. Breakfast was incredible." Draco took his dishes to the sink, which made Molly grin.

"So polite. But enough stalling. You'd best go on." She shooed him out of the kitchen.

Harry led him through the house to the room where he and Hermione had received the details of their mission. Harry went inside, but Draco hesitated. Through the door he could see about nine people occupying chairs, and it occurred to him suddenly that he'd be recounting the last week of his life without Hermione by his side. The thought was unsettling. He took a deep breath and was about to enter when someone called his name.

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco froze, his nerves melting inside him. When he turned around, Albus Dumbledore was gazing at him with a most curious expression. "Professor."

Dumbledore's eyebrows shot up. "Ah, nobody has called me that in many years, dear boy. But then, you are not from here, are you?"

Draco shook his head. "No, Sir." He couldn't help staring at the man who, when Draco had last seen him, was soaring over the edge of the Astronomy Tower, dead long before he hit the ground. His last words had been to beg Snape for something, but Draco had never found out what it was.

"I gather from the way you're looking at me that it's been some time since we've seen each other, is that correct?" Dumbledore peered over the rim of his half-moon spectacles, looking so much like Draco's earliest memories of the man that his knees nearly gave out.

"That's correct, Sir."

"I take it that, where you're from, I'm dead."

Surprised by his bluntness, Draco could only nod.

"And yet your war has been over for some time." Dumbledore nodded to himself. "Why, then, Mr. Malfoy, are you so pale?"

Draco swallowed hard. "Because, Sir. I'm afraid that it was my fault that you died." The words tumbled out of his mouth without his permission, but he didn't regret them for an instant.

"Ah, I see, I see. We were enemies?"

"Oh, not exactly, Sir. It's… it's a long story. I was told V-Voldemort would kill my mother unless I killed you, so I… worked hard to do a shoddy job of it, but in the end, I… I managed to let in people who did finish you off." Draco frowned. "Actually, Sir, that's not quite true. Snape is the one who—"

"Snape!" Dumbledore was truly surprised at that. "Severus Snape?"

Draco nodded. "Yes, Sir. He's the one who… you know. You'd asked him to, you see. That much I've gathered."

"Severus… was working with me?" The old wizard's bright blue eyes were piercing, and Draco wondered if he was trying to peer into his thoughts.

"Yes, Sir. Granger would know more about that than I, though. You can talk to her when she wakes up." Draco glanced into the room, half expecting to see his former Potions teacher among those gathered. "Is Snape not here?"

"I'm afraid I have some upsetting news to depart, it appears. Severus is Voldemort's right-hand man, Draco. He has been, ever since he left Hogwarts."

Draco frowned. "Are you sure, Sir? He was a double agent of sorts where I'm from, perhaps he's doing the same thing here."

"No, I'm afraid not." Dumbledore appeared deep in thought now. "I've seen and heard too much about him to believe that he could be working with us, even surreptitiously. But where you're from… Fascinating… I look forward to speaking with both you and Miss Granger at length another time. For now, however, we've other matters to attend to." He motioned for Draco to enter the room.

The quiet chatter died when he entered, taking a seat beside Harry. Dumbledore went to the front of the room and called order, even though it was unnecessary. It was so quiet you could have heard a pin drop.

"Thank you all for coming on such short notice. As you know, Mr. Malfoy here and Miss Granger were sent on a reconnaissance mission to infiltrate the Collective. They've returned to us today under most unusual circumstances after being gone a little over a week. I, for one, look forward to hearing the story." With that, he sat down and turned his full attention to Draco. Everyone else in the room followed suit.

Draco cleared his throat and began. He started from the beginning and shared every relevant detail, including how Theo had come to join them. Theo's claims to know everything about the device caused a stir in the room, and Draco sensed some excitement at the idea. Finally, he came to the point of his greatest shame, when he had to tell them he had sent Hermione back for their wands—alone.

"You what?" Ron exploded, almost coming out of his seat to launch himself at Draco.

"I had no idea it wouldn't be safe! We'd stowed them far from the camp; I don't even know if she was hurt by someone from the Collective or someone entirely new. All I know is, she Appararted back to where Theo had taken us and immediately collapsed. We brought her here. You know the rest."

Silence stretched for several minutes. Draco stared at the table in front of him, unwilling to look anyone in the eye. Finally, Dumbledore spoke.

"You left the Collective because Theodore Nott, one of Voldemort's top Lieutenants, threatened to expose you unless you brought him with you?"

"Yes, Sir." Draco's voice felt dry and exhaustion was beginning to finally sink all the way to his bones. "When he said he wanted to defect, I figured you lot would know what to do with that. Then he pointed out that, since he'd been there so long, he knew far more than we'd ever learn, so it seemed that staying any longer was unnecessary. The leader suspected there was a mole in his group, so it was only a matter of time before we were found out—even though we weren't that mole, we were still suspicious. I highly doubt he trusted us."

Someone else, a man about twenty years older than Draco with shoulder length black hair, spoke. "You're telling me you let Theo Nott take you and Hermione to an undisclosed location via Portkey when you didn't have your wands?"

Draco blinked, realising how stupid it sounded. "Yes."

The man threw up his hands and laughed, somewhat maniacally. "You just broke about a dozen rules of espionage, not to mention being utterly stupid."

"Sirius, he got the better of Nott," said Harry.

"Only because it just so happened that Nott didn't betray them! He could have taken them straight to Voldemort!"

"We trusted him." Draco met the man's eyes. "Or, at least, we believed that he wanted to leave Voldemort's service." When Sirius started to speak again, Draco cut him off. "I realise that it was a mistake that could have gotten us killed, but we're here, aren't we?"

Sirius only shook his head and pointed towards the door. "Your partner? Is only _barely_ here. So I suggest you—"

"That's enough." Dumbledore steepled his fingers on the table before him. "Gideon, Remus, please speak with Mr. Nott after this meeting. As for Mr. Malfoy and Miss Granger… it was a mistake to send them, and I take full responsibility for that. They were untrained and completely unfit for the mission, I see that now. But what's done is done, and we may come out ahead on this. Does anybody have any further questions?"

It turned out that just about everybody did. Draco spent the next two hours going over everything at least three more times as they plied him for every scrap of information that might possibly exist in what they saw and did. He gave them his memories of their time in the big tent—stopping that memory when Naylen's men entered, he had no intention of sharing what happened next.

The frantic feel of her lips on his felt like another lifetime now.

When Dumbledore finally called the meeting to an end, he asked that Draco remain and bustled everyone else out.

"How are you feeling, Mr. Malfoy?" Dumbledore's bushy eyebrows furrowed slightly.

Draco didn't answer right away, instead taking a moment to assess the question and what his answer might be. "Honestly, Sir, I'm feeling overwhelmed, but seeing you, speaking to you, it's… been good for me, I think."

"Oh? How so?"

"I think… just knowing that you're still out here… somewhere, even if you're not alive where I'm from… Well, Sir, you're the only one Voldemort was ever afraid of, so I have a great deal of hope for your cause and the wizarding world here."

Dumbledore's eyebrows shot up. "I am? The only one he's ever been afraid of? Oh, now that's… not something I've heard before, at least, not quite like that. Thank you, Mr. Malfoy. I do believe the happy accident that brought you here was most fortuitous, and I shall have to apologise to your counterpart when I see him next for forbidding him from testing his device. It clearly didn't work as intended, and he'll need to figure out why, but I'm most grateful for the chance to meet you. And Miss Granger, when that time comes. Thank you."

Draco left without a word and discovered that Potter was waiting just outside in the hall. He was led to a guest room where he could sleep, and Draco passed out as soon as his head hit the pillow.

**ooo**

Draco woke with a start; someone was pounding on the door. "Oye! Malfoy! Dumbledore says you've had enough rest. Hermione's awake and she won't talk to anyone until she talks to you, so get your arse out of bed!"

"Bugger off!" He did his best to sound put out and intimidating, but considering he yawned through the last word, he didn't think he quite managed it.

Ron laughed, banged on the door once more, and left. Draco listened to his heavy footfalls disappear and groaned into the pillow. He hadn't moved an inch in his sleep, and he was groggy from his inadequate nap. He slowly pushed himself up, feeling his muscles strain from the training they'd gone through the day before.

It took him a few minutes to clear the fog from his mind. Draco stood and stretched, then saw, with horror, that his clothes had left blood stains on the sheets. He knew from his time during the war that blood was very difficult to get out of fabric, even with magic, but he did his best. He scrounged through the drawers, looking for clean clothes, but came up short. Apparently, the room wasn't one someone stayed in.

As he was beginning to despair, there was another knock on the door. "Open up!" came Harry's voice.

Draco did, ready to ask for something to change into, but without a word, Harry held out a stack of clothes, a towel, and a bar of soap. "Merlin, that's a welcome sight. Thanks, Potter."

"Sure. Just hurry up, all right? We're all anxious to hear from Hermione." He gave Draco a pointed look and walked away. "Bathroom's just down the hall on your right!"

After he'd showered and put on the fresh clothes quicker than ever before, Draco felt like a new man. Still a very tired man, but one who could at least perform basic functions required of him without dropping off to sleep in the middle. He made his way through the house, which felt both enormous and small all at the same time. He kept finding new rooms and nooks and crannies and it felt like it went on forever yet every hallway was too narrow for two people to walk through.

Just as he was about to head to the underground levels, Harry intercepted him. "Guessing Ron didn't tell you where to go. Sorry. She's one level down, third door on the right." He walked off before Draco could thank him.

Draco easily found the room and knocked on the door.

"Come in."

His heart did a funny skip at the sound of her voice that he didn't want to analyse. She was in a different bed, propped so that she was sitting. On a little table beside her sat a stack of books and a glass of water.

"Oh, Draco!" Her smile was bright and warm, and he was unable to stop himself from returning it with one of his own.

"Hello. You look a lot better than the last time I saw you." Without conscious thought, he pulled a chair beside the bed and took her hand in his—the same hand he'd watched through most of the time she'd been in the other room.

Hermione rolled her eyes but her smile stayed the same. "They tell me you saved me by bringing me here?"

He shrugged, the idea slightly unsettling for some reason. "You told me to. I didn't know you were conscious, but Theo said to take you to St. Mungo's, and you said no, bring you to Potter."

"Did I?" Her eyes widened in amusement. "Thank you for listening to me."

"How are you feeling?"

"Well, considering I was shot." At that, her smile faltered and she leaned forward slightly, her hand tightly gripping his. "Oh, Draco. There's so much I have to tell you!"

Draco listened with increasing astonishment and amazement at the woman before him as she recounted what had happened to her after she left him and Theo in the warehouse, and at some point, without thinking, he laced his fingers with hers.

When she finished, he let out a long breath. He'd been so caught up in her story, especially the end where she'd had to run to get away from Naylen, that he'd barely been breathing. "I can't believe you got away!"

"It was hardly unscathed." She gave him a pointed look. "From what I hear, I nearly bled out all over you."

"I don't care about that."

Her expression morphed into one of tenderness. "I also hear you didn't leave my side until they said I'd be all right."

Draco was having all sorts of feelings that he couldn't easily identify and wasn't prepared to explore. He scoffed. "I told you. I can't go home without you or your friends will kill me."

Hermione laughed but she didn't challenge him. He figured she knew it was more than that. When her mirth settled, she sighed. "I suppose we need to tell everyone else."

His own mood darkened. "I can't believe they've got a way to shoot magic users from such a distance, and with essentially no effort."

"And he wanted to toy with me," Hermione said, looking away from him. "Tagged my leg so that I'd be fit for another round or two."

Draco clenched his empty fist. "I'm so sorry for sending you back there. It should have been me."

She whipped her head around, giving him a hard look that matched the way he felt inside. "No, Draco. You had no idea; how could you? If we had to do it over again, it's possible I was the better choice. I've had more experience creeping through woods, trying to avoid capture than you. Remember?"

"But still—"

"No." Hermione adamantly shook her head. "We're not doing this. Just because you're a man doesn't mean you automatically should have been the one in harm's way. That's rubbish and you know it. I'm more than capable with a wand, just as anybody can be caught completely unaware. I wish I knew how he found me, but what's most important is that our task is complete and we can work on getting home."

Draco nodded, his brow furrowed. "It sounds like their device is nothing like the one other-Draco made."

"Let's call him Fake-O." She grinned wildly, mirth dancing in her eyes.

He quirked an eyebrow, then chuckled as her smile widened. He was about to speak when there was a knock at the door.

"Come in." Hermione gave his hand a squeeze, drawing his attention to the fact that their hands were still clasped on the bed.

Before the door could open, Draco jerked back, withdrawing his hand. He hated the twinge of confusion on her face, but he wasn't ready to deal with the questions and looks they would almost certainly be subjected to. Then he reminded himself that the people here might not care.

It was too late to take her hand again, however, as a long trail of people entered Hermione's room. Dumbledore led the way, followed by Potter, a slew of Weasleys, Potter's mother, plus a handful of people Draco assumed were part of the Order, including Sirius, whom he had belatedly realised was his mother's cousin. In total, Draco counted thirteen people as they walked through the door. Somehow the small room expanded to accommodate the group, and chairs popped into existence as the visitors Conjured them.

Draco remained beside Hermione, sitting as close to the bed as possible.

When everyone was settled, Dumbledore spoke, addressing Hermione with a fond smile. "Miss Granger. It is a pleasure to meet you. I've heard great things about you, though I shouldn't be too surprised, considering I know the Hermione Granger from this timeline." Draco's jaw dropped at the open way Dumbledore was discussing their real identities. Last he knew, they were supposed to pretend to be their counterparts. The older wizard must have picked up on his apprehension because he smiled serenely at him. "After your arrival last night we didn't have much choice but to tell the others the entirety of the situation. But don't worry, your secrets are safe here."

Hermione didn't seem bothered by the news at all. "It's very good to see you, Professor."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Are you ready now to tell us what happened to you? Mr. Malfoy here has given an account of your time since leaving this place up until you were separated, so there's no need to go into that. Unless, of course, you feel there's something you'd like to share."

Hermione glanced at him briefly. "I'm sure that Draco told you everything of import. However, he didn't have all the facts, which I only learned when I returned to retrieve our wands."

She launched into the story once more, and since Draco had already heard it, he focused on Hermione instead. She was animated yet controlled, thorough and careful. He watched her speak of the traumatic event which had happened to her with poise, grace, and humility. And bloody hell, he realised he found her to be the most beautiful and fascinating woman he'd ever known. Her strength in recounting the ordeal only reinforced what he knew of her, both from stories about the war and what he'd learned over the last week.

When she finished, the room was silent. Many were obviously distressed by her information, some agitated, but no one spoke. Everyone waited for Dumbledore.

"We have much to consider now that we have this information. Thank you, Miss Granger, for your courage in both what you did and in speaking to all of us here. They have a new device which can be used to electronically tag us, allowing someone to fire a weapon that is almost guaranteed to find its mark. This device is portable, functional, and likely easily reproducible. The Collective is a small organisation, but they will get more members and more attention with this technology. Thankfully, Miss Granger survived the attack on her life, and we can use the information she brought us."

An older man with red hair raised his hand. "Sir, something to neutralize the device shouldn't be too hard to create."

Dumbledore nodded. "Perhaps Miss Granger would be so good as to share her memories of the device with us?"

"Absolutely," she replied without hesitation.

"Excellent. You may begin at once, Fabian. Take your usual team."

Padma came to Hermione's bed with a vial in hand as Hermione put her wand to her temple and slowly extracted the memory. Padma bottled it and handed it to Fabian Prewett, who thanked her and headed for the door. Draco watched as six people stood and followed him out.

"Now, Mr. Malfoy, you and Miss Granger must turn to the task of getting back to where you belong. What do you require?"

Draco exchanged a look with Hermione. "We need to go back to Hermione's building. Perhaps there's something in the rubbish there that will help."

"Oh, we recovered the device. Earlier this week." Draco's head snapped towards the speaker; he knew that voice well. Minerva McGonagall stood and gave a curt nod in his and Hermione's direction. "It's in the lab room where our Draco Malfoy was working."

Dumbledore beamed. "Mr. Malfoy, it appears that you can begin your investigation. As soon as Miss Granger is given a clean bill of health, she may join you. Now, is there anything either of you would like to tell us?"

Draco couldn't think of anything useful, but Hermione shifted beside him, sitting up straight again.

"Sir? I don't know what help this might be, but I was told by someone earlier today that Snape is Voldemort's most loyal follower here?"

Dumbledore nodded gravely. "I had such hopes for that young man when he was at Hogwarts. Alas, he was too drawn by Riddle's charisma, I'm afraid."

Hermione's gaze flitted from Dumbledore to Harry to Lily Potter and back to Harry. "Again, I don't know if this information will be helpful or even true here, but where I come from, Severus Snape was a hero who died in the war. His last action was to give his memories to Harry, who then viewed them and was able to piece together the solution to defeating Voldemort."

Draco noticed that Hermione kept glancing at Lily, whose expression was torn.

"We've heard of the things Snape is capable of," said one of Ron's older brothers; Draco didn't know which. "If you've information on him that might help, please tell us."

"I will, of course. When Harry was a baby, his parents died to save him from Voldemort himself. Snape had… had been friends with Harry's mother when they were young, before Hogwarts, and it was this act that caused him to turn spy for the Order. Because he loved Harry's mother deeply. Until he drew his last breath."

Lily gasped, her eyes going wide. "What?"

Hermione rushed to speak. "This doesn't mean that _your_ Snape feels or ever felt the same; I don't even know if you knew him before school, but… I thought you should know. Our Snape held onto that love his entire life, and if there's even the chance that he might be turned, you might start there. If you even knew him, Mrs. Potter."

"I did. He was a dear friend, for a long while. But he got caught up with a group in his house that introduced him to Dark Magic. Eventually, we drifted apart."

"That sounds similar to what happened where we're from. It's something to look into, at least."

Dumbledore had been nodding slowly all through Hermione's speech. "Love is the greatest power in all the world. Who knows, this seemingly insignificant information might turn the tide." He sighed wistfully, his gaze no longer seeing what was in front of him but some unknown scene from his past. "There is one more matter to discuss, and that is our… guest. Remus tells me that, like Miss Granger before him, Mr. Nott refuses to speak to anyone until he speaks with you, Mr. Malfoy. Would you mind paying him a visit at your earliest convenience?" He slapped his hands on his knees and stood. The others all did likewise. "Miss Granger, we'll leave you to your rest."

"Professor." Hermione's tone was urgent, and everyone paused to look at her, though she kept her eyes glued on their former Headmaster. "May I speak with you privately? With Harry and Ron, too?"

Dumbledore nodded without hesitation. Everyone exited save for those Hermione had requested stay; Draco assumed that she meant for him to be there and didn't even pretend like he was going to leave. When everyone was seated once again, Hermione proceeded. "Sir, have you ever heard of a Horcrux?"

Draco's blood went cold at the word, and he didn't even know what it meant. There was something about the word that whispered in his memory, but he couldn't be sure.

Dumbledore frowned, peering at her intently. "I believe I came across the term once. Why?"

"In our timeline, Voldemort created quite a few."

"What's a Horcrux?" Harry asked, speaking for the first time since entering the room.

"It's a piece of one's soul, ripped apart and placed into an object. Our Voldemort split his soul six times, believing that this would grant him that which he most desired: immortality. Harry, Ron and I spent months searching for each one and destroying them. Only then could Voldemort himself be defeated. When Harry's mother died to save him, her love protected him and the killing curse rebounded and struck Voldemort. At that time, he unintentionally created a seventh, in Harry himself. However, since his soul was not completely contained in his body, his spirit survived, and he was able to come back to life in a new body."

Weasley gaped at her open-mouthed; Potter was frowning.

Dumbledore nodded, his eyes twinkling in a way Draco had never seen. "That would explain certain… characteristics I've noted in him."

"Are you telling us that you _know_ what objects might house these Horcruxes?" Potter asked.

"I can certainly tell you what mattered to Tom Riddle in my timeline. Professor Dumbledore, you can likely attest to whether these things would matter to your version. Let's see." Hermione held up her hands and began counting them off as she listed. "There was the ring that had belonged to Marvolo Gaunt, his grandfather and a descendent of Salazar Slytherin, Slytherin's locket, a cup that had been Helga Hufflepuff's, Rowena Ravenclaw's diadem, a diary Riddle had created when he was sixteen, and his pet snake, Nagini. Oh, and Harry, of course, as I said earlier."

"Tom Riddle did and presumably does have an extreme affinity for Hogwarts. However, I've never heard of him with a snake."

Hermione shook her head. "The snake was the last one, and he made it after he had returned in his new body."

Dumbledore was quiet for a long moment, muttering softly to himself. "You said you, Mr. Potter, and Mr. Weasley searched for these things? Were you three quite close?"

"Are. We _are_ quite close, yes."

Harry and Ron exchanged a look.

Hermione smiled sadly. "I suppose, in this timeline, it's possible we aren't such good friends. Harry, Ron, and I spent almost every year battling Voldemort in some fashion. Nearly dying while saving each other's lives… we're bonded in a way that's unbreakable. I'm sorry you lot have missed that."

"Oh, we've had plenty of chances to save each other's lives," Ron remarked. "We've been fighting this war and living in this reality our whole lives. But it does sound different."

Hermione nodded, then broke into a yawn. "I'm so sorry!"

At that, Dumbledore stood. "I look forward to speaking with you more on this matter, Miss Granger. For now, I must insist that you get some rest. You've been through quite a lot. Mr. Malfoy, do come with us. We need to have a little chat about Mr. Nott."

"I'll be right there." Draco stood and stretched, smiling at Hermione. "I'd like to hear all of those stories as well some time."

She grinned. "When we get home, I'll tell you any story you want to hear."

The thought struck him that when they returned home, they'd have a lot of explaining to do and even more questions to answer. But before he borrowed trouble, they had to find their way back to where they belonged. For now, as Hermione lay down and pulled the covers up close, he forgot all about what was waiting for him at home.

"I'm going to hold you to that." He brushed a curl off her cheek, then leaned down and gently pressed his lips to her temple.

"Sounds good." Her eyes were already closed, but she smiled. "Night, Draco."


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _In Dreams wrote this chapter_

The first thing Draco noticed when he rose the following morning was that Theodore Nott was already in the kitchen eating breakfast. The next was that Sirius Black lingered by the entrance, arms folded and gaze fixed sternly on Theo.

Either unaware or simply ignoring him, Theo munched the crusts of his toast before flashing Molly Weasley a wide grin. "Thanks for breakfast."

Sinking into a seat across the table from Theo, Draco eyed his would-be friend as he poured a tall glass of orange juice. It was strange to consider that the Theo in this timeline was so involved with the Death Eaters, when his own friend hadn't been keen on it, even when Draco himself had been forced into servitude.

They were precarious waters, especially given the fact that Theo's assistance could be the key to Draco and Hermione being able to return to their own timeline and right things with the versions of them that were presumably stuck as well.

Idly, he wondered what their alternate versions made of the situation. At least _they_ had been aware of the situation in advance.

Draco selected a slice of buttered rye and spread it with a generous portion of marmalade before his gaze drifted up to find Theo staring at him.

"So you're from another dimension." Theo clicked his tongue as he leaned back in his seat. "What's it like there?"

Draco took a bite of his toast and washed it down with a swig of juice. "The war ended years ago. You and I are close, along with Blaise." He hummed for a moment, picking his brain for something relevant that wouldn't reveal too much. "Our fathers are in Azkaban together."

"Blaise," Theo retorted with a snicker. "Haven't seen him since Hogwats."

Presumably the Blaise from this timeline possessed the same proclivity for conflict avoidance as his counterpart back home.

"Look, Theo," Draco said, dropping his voice as he leaned in. "The Order is willing to help you, but you're going to need to cooperate. Obviously they don't trust you, and with good reason. But if you help out with the problems we're having with _our_ device, that good will can go a long way."

"And you want to get back home, of course," Theo drawled. "I can't lie, I miss the other Draco. He was far less… anxious."

A rebuttal withered and died on Draco's tongue. What had he been since landing in this timeline, but anxious? He merely frowned. "Wouldn't you be anxious in my shoes?"

"Touché." Theo flashed him a grin, tossing back the last of his juice. "Fine, Draco. I'll help you and the blasted Order if they can promise me protection. Hell, I'll even tell them what I know about Riddle. I've been ready to get out from under his thumb for a long time, and I must admit, I'm tired of this bloody war with Muggles. Gunshot wounds are no fun."

Draco blinked at the flippancy with which he'd announced such a thing, even as he recognised hints of his old friend in this version of Theo. He boasted the same wry irreverence, and it only made Draco homesick.

Again, he wondered what the situation would become, if he and Hermione managed to get home. _When_ they managed to get home.

Finally he asked, "Won't Riddle know you've defected? What about the Mark?"

"What Mark?" Theo asked, his eyes narrowing.

Draco's gaze drifted to Theo's unblemished forearm and he felt a frisson of envy, considering the problems his own Dark Mark had caused him. He muttered, "Never mind," before selecting a few strips of crisp bacon from the spread in front of them, his stomach grumbling once more with hunger.

He ate the rest of his breakfast in silence, feeling the tension from Sirius' heavy stare by the door. He supposed even the Draco from this timeline wasn't fully trusted either; he hadn't joined the Order all that long ago.

At last, Theo broke the silence again. "I'm told your variation of the device Naylen has is in the lab here. Do you know anything about it?"

"No," Draco admitted. "In fact, I didn't even know what the device was until Hermione explained what happened to her in the woods. We thought the massive structure in the research tent at the compound was the device we were looking for."

Theo released a low snort. "No, that isn't what you were looking for—although they are related. The structure they guard so covetously at the camp is a sort of… _overarching_ powerhouse. Right now Naylen has the only device because it's a prototype, but once they have more, the orb you found will control them all." His gaze landed on Draco's as he hesitated for a moment. "And it can supersede the commands dispatched to the handheld device."

Draco froze, uncertain whether he was breathing. They were speaking quietly enough that neither Sirius by the door, nor Molly preparing more breakfast for the stragglers slinking in, could hear them.

Under his breath, Draco mused, "So the orb can override the handheld device—or devices, if they make more?"

"Yes and no," Theo breathed, "but it isn't that simple. It's essentially a massive computer—a large technological brain. And as you saw, it isn't easy to get to. It requires passwords—several of them—and I don't know enough about how it functions. I'd been working on getting access to it for weeks but only the top level operatives have working knowledge of it. You'd need a skilled hacker to get in without the passwords. Furthermore, it's basically indestructible. Made of military-grade _everything_. Good luck accessing it."

Draco's mind spun with information as he finished the last of his breakfast, forsaken of his appetite in light of what Theo had shared. As soon as Hermione awoke, he would need to tell her, but he wasn't certain whether it would do anything to further _their_ particular cause of getting home.

Figuring out the key to the orb could certainly affect the tides of the war, however, and it was presently in his best interest to help Theo.

"You're to help me with our device. Something about it obviously isn't working, since it didn't only detect magical signatures, it plucked them out from an entirely different dimension." Rubbing the back of his neck, Draco wondered how his other self had even managed such a thing.

As if thinking along the same lines, Theo snickered. "Leave it to you to make the bloody thing work so much more bizarrely than you intended."

Draco wasn't certain whether to take the words as a compliment or a criticism, but he chuckled at the thought. "Let's go—this is how you prove yourself to the Order."

* * *

Once the two of them were alone in the lab, Draco waited patiently while Theo observed the device that had been recovered from the wreckage of Hermione's building, tapping it with his wand and turning it over in his hands. Every so often he frowned at the wand as though it wasn't quite working as he would have liked; his had been destroyed when Hermione was attacked and the Order had scrounged up a replacement for him to use.

Draco obviously hadn't seen Naylen's iteration of the device, but Theo confirmed them to be similar.

Eventually Theo set it down on the workbench with a shrug. "I'm not going to know what's wrong with it just by looking at it."

Pushing off from the wall, Draco stalked closer, rolling his eyes. "Then what are you doing?"

"Killing time." Theo's lips twitched. "Here's the thing, Draco—I would need to compare the programming to this system with the other one, and the only way to do that is to use the supercomputer on the Collective's compound. Which we can't access."

Rubbing at bleary eyes, Draco released a long sigh. "So how are we supposed to figure out where it went wrong? And how do you even know about this stuff anyways?"

"Remember," Theo said, stepping away from the bench, "I've grown up in a world where Muggles and magic-kind have always been integrated. This war wasn't always raging, and our education probably contained more Muggle information than yours did if Muggles never knew about magic."

"So that's how you know about computers, and"—he waved a hand vaguely—" _hacking_."

"Yes. Technically, that's how your alternate self knew how to even build this thing. But obviously something went wrong."

Sinking into a stool at the bench, Draco stared hard at the device. "That's a bloody understatement, isn't it?"

Theo pulled up a stool alongside him, leaning back against the bench with his arms folded. "Do you want to know my Gryffindor plan to get you back home? It's a Gryffindor plan because it's daft—"

"Hey," a quiet, disgruntled voice intruded.

Draco jumped to his feet when he realised Hermione had joined them, looking small and a little worse for the wear, but standing. She was somewhat green so Draco offered his seat, dragging another one over from farther down. He tried to ignore the stuttering in his chest at seeing her up and about; they had important matters to discuss.

But she offered them each a smile. "Clearly I've missed something. What's your daft plan, Theo?"

Idly, Theo tapped a finger on the casing of the device. "If this thing malfunctioned to bring you here when you activated it, maybe it'll malfunction again and send you back."

Draco gaped at him for a moment before his eyes slid to find Granger's, who was frowning. "That isn't a good idea. Any number of things could go wrong, for one, and for another, if it _does_ work, what's to say it would take us back to the same dimension we came from? For all we know, there are an infinite number of these timelines, all existing parallel to one another, and it was by complete chance that the device plucked us from ours." He hesitated for a moment, clicking his tongue. "Bloody awful luck, when you think of it that way."

Hermione snickered quietly at his side.

Theo only pointed a finger at him. "That's why it's the _daft_ plan."

"It's a terrible plan," Hermione said, shaking her head. "What's the Slytherin plan?"

Quickly, Draco and Theo rehashed what Theo had shared about the object in the tent being a supercomputer capable of controlling, reprogramming, and overriding the weapons the Collective had been producing.

She stared between them, her eyes tight with consideration. "So, theoretically, could we use the computer to reprogram _this_ device to work the way it was meant to? If we could just reverse the programming it should be able to make this device hide the magical signatures."

"Granger, this device could turn the tides of this war." Theo let that thought hang between them. "That's why the Collective is so keen on producing more of them. It's the best weapon they've got to combat magic and spellfire. Swords are bloody useless against wizards unless you catch them off guard, and most have learned to shield and deflect bullets. But a weapon that detects a magical being and hones in on them? That's powerful."

Draco dropped his head into his palms, propping his elbow on the bench. "Say we manage to find a way to access this supercomputer—can we deactivate the Collective's weapons?"

"We can deactivate them," Theo said, waving a flippant hand, "reprogram them, erase the coding. It would take a lot to destroy the computer altogether. Of course, we'd only be delaying the inevitable because if they've built it once, they'll be able to build it again. And if we disable their devices, they'll just turn them back on."

"But if we can get _ours_ functional," Hermione said quietly, "we'll be able to reproduce them for the Order to use against Riddle. And we would only need to jam theirs long enough for us to get back out."

She held Draco's stare for a moment and he grimaced. "I don't think the Collective is just going to let us waltz in and use their computer to program _our_ weapons. They'd sooner kill us all—they have no regard for witches and wizards, even if we're technically on the same side in the war against Riddle. In fact, it sounds like most of the Muggle-on-magic fighting is pointless if Riddle and his Death Eaters are the main problem here."

Hermione didn't look convinced, however, as she chewed her bottom lip in thought. "Theo, who would have access to the computer?"

Drumming his fingers on the counter, he murmured, "Naylen, Roger, maybe one other. I was working on it when I saw you lot and the plan changed."

"Roger?" Her head snapped up and Draco shifted in his seat, sensing her brain whirring. "Wasn't he one of the ones plotting against Naylen?"

"Yes," Theo snickered, "but I doubt he'll want to help _you_."

Draco released a long sigh, dropping his head over the back of his stool. "If there's one thing Granger and I learned through _our_ war, Theo, it's that things aren't always pretty, but sometimes you have to do them anyways."

Theo froze, his gaze flitting between them. "What are you suggesting? We _Imperius_ him?"

A jolt of unease settled in his stomach at the thought, bringing back bad memories of his sixth year. "Too unpredictable. What do you suppose the chances are the Order keeps a stock of Polyjuice around?"

Hermione sucked in a sharp breath, her eyes wide, and he could see the cogs spinning as she grasped his idea. "We would need to kidnap him."

Theo grimaced. "It wouldn't be a first for me."

"The problem with that," Draco went on, "is that Hermione and I don't know anything about the computer and hardly anything about the device, so we'll need Theo to come along. And there isn't a chance the Order will trust him to go alone. We'll need someone else from the Collective so it doesn't raise suspicion."

Hermione scoffed, leaning back in her seat. "You aren't leaving me behind."

"You were just _shot,_ " Draco deadpanned, "and I can only imagine Naylen will take any opportunity to take another try at you if something goes wrong."

"And if something _does_ go wrong, he'll shoot you both!"

He met her stare, finding worry in the depths of her eyes. For an instant, he longed to take her into his arms, to feel the warmth of her lips, but it was neither the time nor the place, and he didn't know how much Theo had guessed about their facade at the camp.

For everything Theo had shared, Draco still wasn't entirely convinced Theo didn't still harbour his own motives. Which was the other reason he wouldn't trust the man to go back into the Collective's camp alone.

Draco swept a hand through his hair. "We'll have to run this all by the Order anyway, and it'll probably take a few days to get everything coordinated. If you get clearance to come from Healer Patil, we won't be able to prevent you from coming. But then it means we'll possibly be kidnapping and impersonating three people from the Collective who we won't know well enough to mimic adequately. So we will need to move quickly."

"Not to mention we'll need to get Roger to talk," Theo drawled idly, "because we don't have the codes to access the computer."

"So," Hermione breathed after a long pause, "a dangerous plan, wherein we don't know exactly what we're up against, and a whole host of things could possibly go wrong and lead to our demise."

Draco snickered. "Right up your alley."

A slow smile spread across her face.

* * *

Potter stared blankly between the three of them amongst a large group of Order members spread around the room after they'd shared their idea. "You want to…" Potter shook his head, dragging a hand through his messy hair, "infiltrate the Collective—again?"

Almost unable to believe it himself, Draco nodded. "It's the only way we can fix our device and potentially produce more of them."

Sirius Black strode forward, a frown on his face, and dropped into the seat beside Potter. "This is nuts. You're going to get yourselves killed, _and_ expose us to the Collective. Those devices are no joke, and if they come at us with an army—"

"Sirius." Harry held up a hand as he released a sigh. "There is some merit to the idea. And we've already prioritised a lot to get our device functional."

Sirius folded his arms, fixing Draco with a tight stare. "So why don't you just blow up the Muggles' computer if it's the source of their power?"

"Why wouldn't we use it to our own benefit?" Draco scowled at his cousin for a moment. "The Muggles can rebuild it, but we don't have the technical knowledge."

Potter, however, had his gaze fixed on Hermione, seated at Draco's side. Quietly, he asked, "Hermione? What do you think of all this? Aren't you and Malfoy trying to get home?"

She folded her arms, worrying her lip. As the day wore on, she had looked more and more fatigued, and Draco suspected she would be ready to sleep as soon as the meeting was through.

"I think," she said with a sigh, "Draco and I have resigned ourselves to the idea that the only way home is to push through. But… I can't help but wonder whether we'll be able to use this computer to reprogram our device to send us back home. Then the Draco and Hermione from your timeline—the ones who _actually_ know about all this—could come back and help you fight this war."

Despite the room full of people, Draco reached over, his fingers nudging against hers for support where they sat on her lap. Her fingertips drifted idly across the back of his knuckles in response.

Potter swept a hand through his hair again, though Draco noticed his eyes flicker towards their hands. "We'll have to deliberate this. We can't go ahead with significant plans without proper consideration and a vote."

"Fine." Draco glanced at Theo, who had remained curiously silent throughout. "Let us know once you've decided because it will take some time to set things in motion." He caught Hermione's stare again, seeing the exhaustion in her face, and gave her fingers a brief squeeze. "Perhaps it's time for Hermione to get some sleep."

"Right," Potter said distractedly as he ducked towards Sirius, speaking under his breath, before offering a quick, "Thanks Malfoy."

As the rest of the room dispersed, Hermione turned towards him with a grateful smile. "I'm quite tired."

"I know." His lips twitched with a smirk as he offered a hand to help her from her seat. "Are you going back to the infirmary?"

She shook her head, eyes flitting to his. "No, Padma said I can sleep in my own room now as long as I report back to her in the morning."

"Good." Draco assisted her from the room with a hand on the small of her back, taking hold of her arm as her eyes fluttered and she nearly stumbled on a step. Carefully, he led her towards the room she'd been assigned, and when she ventured in without saying anything, he followed.

"Thanks," she breathed, her voice a little weak from the exertion. She gave a soft chuckle. "I guess I'm still not quite feeling back to normal yet."

"That's alright," Draco returned quietly, his heart clenching to see her still in pain. "The Healer said it would take a few days."

She glanced at him for a long moment before dropping her gaze, and her cheeks bloomed with a dull flush. "Good night, then."

Draco clenched his jaw. "Granger, are you alright?" She offered a false nod, shifting her weight onto her good leg. He stepped forward, helping her to sit on the bed. "You _aren't_."

"I only wondered," she began, staring at the quilt, "whether you might like to join me. It's just felt… odd, since we've been back here."

It _had_ felt odd, but Draco was surprised to hear the admission fall so freely from her lips. He'd grown accustomed to having her beside him, even though they'd only been at the Collective for a week. He had come to rely on her presence falling asleep, and though he'd passed out quickly out of pure exhaustion after they arrived back, he found himself grateful for the offer.

His mouth felt dry, heart pounding in his chest as he nodded. "Yes. I'll join you."

Hermione offered a timid smile, shifting out of her loose trousers with a bit of a grimace when the fabric grazed her wounded leg. Draco moved to help but she tugged them the rest of the way off before swinging her legs beneath the covers.

Like they had in the tent, he stripped to his shorts before climbing in alongside her, wondering all the while what it meant for the _fake_ story they'd presented.

But when she slipped back towards him, stifling a wide yawn with her hand, Draco wrapped an arm around her middle and drew her against his chest.

With a murmured, "Good night, Granger," he pressed a hesitant kiss to the curve of her jaw, relieved when she only sunk further into his hold with a sigh.

He would have a lot to sort through, emotionally, once they returned home—especially if anything he thought he was feeling was only one-sided and circumstantial—but for now, he was content to simply exist. Within minutes, the soft rhythm of her breathing lulled him to sleep.

* * *

Draco stirred awake at the feel of Hermione shifting in his arms, not yet ready to get out of bed. It was nice, even if momentarily, to forget the situation they were stuck in.

Even though he didn't know her thoughts on the rest of it, and he didn't intend to spook her off, Draco couldn't help but feel as though they'd been growing closer in a way that he wouldn't mind pursuing once they returned home.

Despite the fact that they were from two completely opposite worlds. _And_ it might not even be what she wanted.

But the sparkle in her eyes as they slid open to meet his spurred a jolt in his chest.

"Good morning," she whispered as she stretched her arms out but made no move to extricate herself from his embrace.

"Morning." Draco sank a little deeper into his pillow. "How are you feeling?"

Dragging her bottom lip between her teeth—Draco found his eyes drawn to the movement—she considered the question for a moment before nodding. "I feel alright. I slept well."

Draco couldn't help but preen for a moment at the thought that she'd been able to sleep better with him, but the comparison was also to a small hospital bed. Quickly, the thought withered away.

"Good," he murmured, brushing his lips against her temple as she tucked into his hold.

They were silent for a moment and Draco felt his eyelids flutter shut once more, seeking a few moments of solace before another assuredly busy day. Until her voice, muffled against his chest, asked, "Draco?" He hummed, hoping she wasn't going to ask him to get up. Uncertain, her voice sounded again. "What is this?"

" _This_?" he echoed, shifting so he could meet her stare.

She nodded, with a quiet, "Yes."

Draco swallowed, glancing away momentarily. "I don't know. Obviously we don't need to act anymore, but…"

"If we can figure out how to make the device work," she said, "we'll be going back home."

Although he thought it was a rather large _if_ , given their plan wasn't without its faults _or_ risks, he nodded. "Right. I guess it's one thing here." He paused, uncertain how much he wanted to share when he didn't even know what she wanted.

"Back home no one will understand," she whispered, solidifying his fears. Indecision haunted her stare before she swallowed thickly. "But I don't know if I care—if you don't."

Draco's heart stuttered in his chest. He managed a gruff, "I don't care," before capturing her lips with his. Instantly she responded, sinking into his hold, her lips parting for him as he deepened the kiss as his fingers grazed the curve of her jaw.

When they parted, she rested her forehead against his, her breathing quick. "Okay," she whispered, gracing him with a warm smile. "I guess now we just need to find our way back."

Despite the situation, hope bloomed within him at the warmth in her stare. He had always been a realist, but something about knowing she was on his side was cause for cautious optimism.

The idea that she was interested in something with him once they'd returned back to their own world only solidified his drive to figure out a way home. Planting another kiss to her lips, he smiled. "I suppose we ought to get on that, then."

* * *

Once again, Theo was already awake by the time Draco ventured into the kitchen, although this time Hermione was at his side, having checked in with Healer Patil first thing upon waking.

But to Draco's surprise, Theo was seated with Potter, whose brows were raised with scepticism. When Draco and Hermione walked in, they both seemed to deflate from the tension that hung in the room.

"Good," Potter said gruffly, "you're both here. I'll need you to corroborate with Nott's story that he was close with one of the high-level operatives at the Collective."

"Roger," Theo supplied.

Potter scowled, dragging a hand through his hair. "Nott claims he can get the information we need."

Draco glanced between Theo and Hermione before offering a shrug. "We don't know how to access the Collective's computer. Roger can give us that information—whether willing or unwilling—and we're going to need his hair for the Polyjuice so we'll need to detain him regardless."

Potter still didn't look convinced. "You said yesterday you'll need three doses of Polyjuice."

"You're not sending Nott in alone," Draco said, holding up a finger, then another, "I can't figure it out without any technical knowledge, and as long as Hermione's medically cleared, she'll be coming as well." He lifted the third.

Even though the thought of her getting injured again, so soon after he'd nearly lost her, embedded an anxious twist into Draco's stomach, he knew better than to ask her to stay behind from such an important mission. Especially when she had more reason than any of them to want to seek revenge on Naylen.

She offered him a soft, grateful smile at his inclusion.

"Should we have the Order on standby for an attack?" Potter sank into his seat. "I realise it's a stealth mission, but if something goes wrong we won't be able to mobilise quick enough unless we're already prepared."

"It can't hurt," Hermione contributed. "There are a lot of things that could possibly go awry."

"Fine." Potter shook his head. "Nott—reach out to your contact. But Malfoy, you're in charge of making sure this doesn't go poorly."

Draco couldn't blame him, given the many glaring unknowns in their plan, but he appreciated that Potter was willing to move forward. Maybe they had fostered some trust with the Order on their last mission after all.

"The issue with Roger," Draco went on at last, "is that Naylen will have told him we're wizards, and likely the whole story about how we left. I can't imagine he'll want to meet with any of us willingly."

Theo cracked a thin grimace. "I've got enough dirt on the man to bury him. Leave that to me."

* * *

Despite everyone's reservations, and Draco had plenty of his own, Theo proceeded with his plan to reach out to Roger. Potter had given him a Protean-charmed galleon—evidently something the Hermione from their time had come up with to communicate—and he was to use it to contact the Order if something went wrong.

Since they had no way of communicating with Roger specifically, the only way to track him down was to trust Theo's knowledge of the Collective's patrol routes—and to hope they hadn't been altered in the handful of days since the three of them had left.

Hermione had been forced to stay back at Headquarters for some tests with Healer Patil, but it was for the best that they didn't have too many involved in the operation. Privately, Draco hadn't wanted to voice the thought of what would happen if Roger was _unwilling_ to talk, and he didn't want her to bear witness.

So he found himself on the perimeter of the forest within which the Collective kept their base, several Order operatives lingering a short distance away if they needed backup.

Draco felt anxious after ten minutes passed without any signs of movement, and he'd begun to feel like a sitting duck when rustling came from the bushes just beyond. Theo's gaze flickered to meet his as the man silently drew his wand. Swallowing, Draco followed suit.

But his shoulders dropped when Roger came into view, and by the time the man had taken three steps, Theo was behind him, his wand jammed into the flesh below the man's jaw.

Eyes tightening, Draco scanned the woods around them, sufficiently pleased that Roger had been alone. He strode forward and relieved Roger of his sidearm before Summoning the three remaining knives.

Roger's lip merely curled with revulsion, his eyes narrowed.

"We've going to give you a chance," Theo said lowly, adjusting his hold on the man. "You're going to answer some questions, and if you do as we ask, you're going to walk away alive. Deal?"

Although Roger's stare could have burned Draco alive where he stood, the man grunted, "Deal."

Theo's gaze lifted to meet Draco's, and with a stiff nod, the man Disapparated with his prisoner. Casting one last surreptitious stare around, Draco followed to the warehouse where Theo had taken him and Hermione upon escaping the forest the first time.

When he landed, he tapped a quick message into his coin before striding forward to where Theo had already bound and immobilised Roger. His stomach churned at the sight, but if Roger was cooperative there would be no need for anything further.

Roger spat on the floor, angry gaze darting between them. "I should have known."

"Probably." Theo's lips twitched as he cast Draco a glance. "But it's neither here nor there. We need your access codes for the Collective's supercomputer. And before you say anything, know this—" he took a step closer, crouching down to meet Roger's gaze "—we have ways of drawing the information out of your brain but it isn't, strictly, _comfortable_."

Some of the determination on Roger's face faltered as he considered his options. Draco knew he had already been scheming against Naylen, so clearly the man possessed no loyalty and few scruples. But by capitulating to them, he would be actively turning against his kind. Draco felt a twinge of sympathy, having had no interest in these sorts of manipulations even when he had been a Death Eater. And that had been years ago.

"So you know," Draco added, "it wasn't our intention to harm anyone from the Collective. Our war is with Tom Riddle and his Death Eaters, the same as you. Not all wizards and witches want to hurt Muggles. Most just want the war to end."

He wasn't entirely certain if he had the situation in this timeline right, remembering the rampant and chaotic fighting in the streets when he and Hermione had originally landed here, but he could only imagine most didn't want to continue fighting.

Indecision flickered across Roger's face. "If you don't want to hurt us what do you want with the computer?"

Theo's stare landed on him but Draco shook his head. "We aren't telling you that."

He could see the tension in the man's shoulders and throat, even as Theo's spell kept him from moving.

At last, Theo rolled his wand between his fingers. "You don't really have a choice here, Roger. I don't want to hurt you."

Some of the fight sunk from Roger and he grunted, "Fine, then. Get me a pen and paper."

A grin spread across Theo's face as he conjured the requested materials. Once Roger had written the codes, Theo tucked the paper into his pocket. Draco darted forward, snatching a few hairs from Roger's head and tucking them into a small glass vial. When Roger scowled at him, he only shrugged, unwilling to divulge anything more than necessary.

They couldn't trust Roger not to return to the Collective while they moved forward with the plan, thereby blowing their cover, so while they released the spells holding him in place, they were careful to seal and ward the warehouse so the man couldn't escape.

Draco rummaged in his bag, drawing out some food and water to sustain Roger until they could return, and placed it on an old wooden table nearby.

Then, satisfied, they Apparated back to Headquarters.

* * *

The original plan of Polyjuicing and impersonating three members of the Collective had been too risky, and when Theo brought up the thought of coordinating with Roger's friend inside—the one who had been working with the pair of them to plot against Naylen—a different plan had evolved.

Theo had known Roger well enough to copy his mannerisms, and Draco had snuck into London and recovered hairs from two random Muggles for him and Hermione.

Since Roger was in charge of recruiting new members to the Collective, it worked out in their favour, and Draco and Hermione were, once again, acting as new recruits. Only this time, their goal was to get in and out as quickly as possible.

And they would need to rely on the existing goodwill between Roger and the other man, Wilson.

Each of them carried a small additional stash of Polyjuice in case the time spent at the Collective's camp went longer than an hour, and after ensuring they had everything else they would need, they were set to go.

Draco had never consumed Polyjuice potion before, and it tasted as foul as it looked, but Hermione was evidently no stranger to the experience. They would be bringing their wands in, which would be a risk in itself if Naylen was actively utilising his tracking device, but as soon as they could get into the computer, they'd be able to shut it down.

And they also had Roger's weapons if need should arise, along with a few others, strategically hidden.

If everything went according to plan, there would be no reason for anyone to discover their presence inside the Collective—until it was too late.

Hermione had their device, which they would need to reprogram. It was strange, feeling his own skin twist and bubble, and watching as she shifted into a small blonde woman. He'd grown a dark beard, the Muggle body which he was to inhabit decidedly sturdier than his own, and it felt cumbersome to move around.

Glancing towards Theo-turned-Roger, Draco nodded.

Potter surveyed the three of them with a grimace. "We'll be prepared just beyond the border of the Collective's camp. If _anything_ goes wrong, send word on your coins and we'll be there as soon as possible."

"Thanks, Potter." Draco clapped the man on the shoulder. "Wish us luck." Stowing his wand holster safely inside the thigh of his jeans, Draco exchanged one last look with Hermione and Theo.

Then the three of them Apparated back to the Collective.

* * *

Draco was glad they'd brought extra Polyjuice Potion, because it took them nearly fifteen minutes of skirting around the forest edges to locate Wilson. Furthermore, he was glad they'd brought Theo. His former friend's inside knowledge of the defectors inside the Collective's camp had proven invaluable in gaining Wilson's trust, who had no reason to suspect Theo wasn't _actually_ Roger.

When Theo had cast an overtly suspicious glance around, before inferring that his _new recruits_ were there to help them bring down Naylen, Wilson had jumped to the requested task of distraction and disarming.

It would be vital that Naylen wouldn't have use of his device until they were able to shut down the software, and they needed to be sure their presence in the tent wasn't questioned.

Forced to rely on Wilson's efficiency, they'd lingered in the forest for an additional ten minutes before approaching the tent; whatever the man had done had worked, because the tent was empty.

"Thank Merlin," Theo muttered, drawing the slip of paper from his pocket that bore the access codes. Without any hesitation, he set to work at the computer, and Draco and Hermione lingered near the entrance in case someone _did_ walk in.

They were, once more, left to hope that Theo knew what he was talking about. Tension lingered between Draco and Hermione as they waited in silence, and he could feel the agitated rhythm of his own heart. A few times he walked over to where Theo was working, but none of the information on the screen made any sense whatsoever; he could only hope Theo understood it.

At last, Theo let out a sigh, dragging a hand through his hair. "It looks like Naylen has _eight_ devices."

"Eight!" Draco choked, dashing over with Hermione on his heels. On the screen before Theo were eight lines, each one containing a series of numbers with a flashing green _ACTIVE_ at the end. He swallowed a lump in his throat. "Active?"

A slow, cheshire grin spread across Theo's face, and with the sharp snap of his fingertip on a key, the flashing green letters vanished. "Not anymore."

"Good." Hermione curled her fingers around Draco's as she peered closer. "Are you able to determine how they've programmed theirs?"

"I think so." Theo hit several other buttons; none of it made any sense to Draco and he was grateful that the Theo from this dimension knew how to operate computers. "Hand me the device."

As Hermione fumbled in her bag to find the device, Draco drew his wand, creeping closer towards the door. Without the devices active, Naylen and the rest of the people carrying them wouldn't be able to detect if they were using magic, but they could still be discovered and killed by other Muggle means if they weren't careful.

"We need to be quick," he said in a hushed voice as he returned to the centre of the tent. "We don't know how much time Wilson has bought us."

Theo fixed him with a hard stare and Draco frowned.

"I can copy the Collective's software to your device. The problem is," Theo said, brandishing the device, "whatever the other Draco programmed onto this—including the means by which he plucked the pair of you out of your peaceful existences—will be overwritten."

Hermione met Draco's stare, worrying her bottom lip as her eyes flickered towards the entrance. "Can you tell how it's been programmed, or what went wrong in the first place?"

"I can try," Theo said, dragging a hand through his hair, "but it's complicated and could take a while. I'm not an expert with computers."

"A while is time we don't have," Draco drawled.

Theo tapped the glass screen with a fingernail. "Eventually one of them is going to realise the devices aren't working and this is the first place they'll come. At which point—active or not—we're in trouble because bullets can still kill us just fine."

Hermione sighed, sinking into a seat beside Theo. "What if we tried speaking with Naylen?" When Draco rose a brow, prepared to rebuke the idea, she held up a hand. "I _know_ —he tried to kill me. But what if we explained that we're only trying to take down Riddle?"

"Good luck," Theo muttered with a low snort. "No one here is interested in speaking with wizards or witches, and if you're hoping to make a deal, they'd sooner shoot first and ask questions later."

As she deflated in her seat, Draco felt a twinge of sympathy. The people of this world were involved in an utter mess, and so much of it was wrapped around miscommunications. He wondered how everything had devolved to this point if the wizarding and Muggle worlds had been at peace not so long ago.

"You need to make a decision." Theo brandished the device, drawing them back to the matter at hand.

"If we overwrite the programming," Draco said slowly, "we won't be able to use it to get back home. Is that what you're saying?"

Clicking his tongue for a moment, Theo measured his words. "That is my understanding of it, yes. But again, I didn't program this, you did."

In so many of Draco's past experiences, when faced with a tough decision, he'd taken the easy route. If it were up to him, he would want only to get back home.

But he wasn't the only one involved, and his eyes desperately sought Hermione's. He wished her eyes looked like her own, but instead a stranger stared back at him. Gruffly he bit out, "You choose."

She shook her head, slow and forlorn. "This device was important to the other Draco and Hermione. I don't think we can leave them to fight this war without it if we have a chance to finish the work they started."

"They won't be able to fight this war if they don't come back." Draco felt his heart rate escalate at the thought they might lose their only way home. He ground his teeth together. "I don't want to get stuck here."

"Neither do I," she whispered, casting a sidelong glance at Theo. "No offence but this isn't our home and it isn't our war."

With a snicker, Theo drawled, "None taken. If I had a chance to get out of here I'd take it too."

"Can we steal another one?" Draco asked after a moment. "From one of the Muggles here at the Collective—then we can return with both?"

"Sure." Theo leaned back in his seat. "Good luck managing that without drawing attention to yourself. Besides, we don't even know who has one other than Naylen. Roger didn't."

"Wilson?" Hermione asked, the word sharp as it filled the tense air between them.

Clicking his tongue for several moments, Theo squinted at the screen. "Wilson might. But we have no idea where he is and with these devices inactive, we're on borrowed time."

Draco sought Hermione's stare, feeling fear mount within him. Though he desperately wanted to retain the programming that could be tweaked to get them home, it was their only chance to weaponise the device by mimicking the Collective's software. He pressed his eyes shut, knowing what Hermione would do.

"We need to switch it," he breathed. "Hermione and I will have to figure something else out, but if this is the Order's only chance to get this thing functional—and use it to create more—we need to take it."

Although Theo raised his brows, Hermione beamed at him. Despite the furious clamouring of his heart, Draco knew it was the right call.

Hermione's fingers slipped between his, giving his hand a squeeze and bolstering his spirit slightly. If nothing else, at least they were still in the situation together. And she was the smartest person he knew—if anyone could figure something out, it was her.

"Your call," Theo clipped, though he nodded. With a few clacks of his fingers on the keyboard, he announced, "It's transferring."

Draco clamped his jaw shut to refrain from taking back his decision, tension once more taking over the tent as the three of them waited. Draco's wand felt uncertain in his palm, eyes flickering to the entrance every few seconds.

With a breath of relief, Theo flashed a grin and handed the device back to Hermione, who stowed it into her bag. "It's done—now let's get the hell out of here."

"Not a moment too soon," Draco breathed, as he heard shouts from outside of the tent. "It sounds like we've been discovered." He swallowed a sudden lump in his throat upon realising that Hermione's hair was darkening, the potion beginning to wear off.

"We need to get out of here." Theo hastily tapped a few more keys with one hand as he rose to his feet, grappling for his wand.

The shouting grew louder and Draco froze as gunshots echoed through the air. Screams sounded in the distance, too far out to be nearby.

"Is that—" Hermione gasped, her eyes widening; her hair had begun to curl, "—wandfire?"

"Shit!" Theo exclaimed, looking almost entirely like himself again. "It is. What the fuck is going on out there?"

Indecision tore deep inside of Draco; if the Collective was under attack by wizards, they had just deactivated their most efficient and deadly means of defending themselves.

The entrance to the tent flew open, several people running in, and purely on instinct, Draco lifted his wand towards the newcomers. His eyes narrowed upon seeing Naylen at the front, his jaw dropping, a useless tracking device in his hand.

Mutely, the three Muggles in the entrance grappled for weapons.

"Don't," Draco hissed, his wand hand steady, "even think about it."

On either side of him, Hermione and Theo brandished their wands.

"What are you doing?" Naylen snapped, striding a step forward. As if realising the direness of the situation, he held his hands up belatedly, letting his device drop to the floor. "How did you get in here?"

Theo scowled, even as Draco could see his expression faltering with hesitation. He had spent months living with these people. "What's going on outside?"

"Our blasted devices—" Naylen cut himself off, his jaw going hard. "You've deactivated them. We're under attack and if you don't get out of the way I swear to God—"

"Death Eaters," Hermione whispered, the words hanging between the standoff in the tent.

Naylen nodded once, harshly. "I don't know how they found us, but—"

Operating out of nothing but instinct, Draco lowered his wand. "We aren't your enemy, Naylen—but they are. The Death Eaters are our common enemy."

More scattered gunfire sounded from the forest around, shouts and screams splitting the air.

Scowling, Naylen nodded towards their wands. "I ought to shoot all three of you right now. But if you're telling the truth, and you aren't with the Death Eaters—if any of you wizards are still decent—now's your chance to prove it."


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Floorcoaster wrote this chapter_

Draco cast a furtive glance at Hermione, but she was resolute. "We're—"

"One condition." Everyone looked at Theo, whose eyes were fixed on Naylen. "You give us one of your devices."

An explosion sounded outside, loud enough to shake the ground and rattle something metal deeper in the tent.

"There's no time for negotiations," Naylen ground out. Then he let out a frustrated cry. "Fine. If—and that's a big if—you help us, I'll give you one."

Theo held out his hand, Naylen quickly shook it, then turned and stalked back to the entrance to the tent. He peeked out, a burst of red light illuminating his face. Draco gave Theo a questioning look, but he waved him off.

"They came in on the north side of the camp. We think there are twenty of them. There's nowhere to hide." Naylen grimaced. "I've seen the damage their spells can do; we'll be flattened."

Theo rolled up his sleeves. "You've got us. What do you need?"

Naylen gave the three of them one last look, and Draco realised he'd finally decided to trust them. Enough for now, at least. "First, there's a bunker beneath my tent. We need to get our non-fighting members securely inside it. They know what to do in case of an attack, but the fire is too heavy right now. Second, and possibly more urgent, we need to secure the Orb. The structure in the middle of the camp stands over our weapons cache. If we can't secure the Orb, we need to destroy it. We can't let that hardware fall into Death Eater hands, and we can blow the whole thing up if we need to."

"Right." With a quick glance outside, Theo nodded. "Draco and I will cover you while you move the Orb. Hermione can go with one of you to your tent." Theo looked at Hermione. "You do know how to fight, right?"

She snorted and regripped her wand. "You always talk this much, Nott?"

Draco smirked at his friend. "I'm ready." He hated the way his nerves were making their presence known. He'd avoided the fighting as much as possible during the war, but he hadn't been able to stay out of it completely. He certainly wasn't as adept as Hermione probably was, but he could manage to stay alive and help Theo, at least.

Naylen's two comrades disappeared into the tent and returned moments later with the Orb. They handed it to Naylen, who tucked it securely under one arm. Then he held up three fingers and counted them down. When he made a fist, the men burst forth from the tent. Draco threw up a large Shield Charm, while Theo sent attack spells in the direction of the main fighting. With Naylen and one other man, they ran as fast as they could towards the weapons bunker.

As soon as they reached relative safety, the Muggles hurried inside and started securing the tent. Draco put up wards to protect the weapons tent, while Theo kept watch on what was happening. When the wards were up, Draco looked towards Naylen's tent just in time to see Hermione usher in the last few non-fighters. She glanced his way and their eyes met, then she hurried inside as well.

Something awful welled in Draco's stomach; he hated the idea of being separated from Hermione. It was fine for her to help secure part of Naylen's group, but then she needed to be out, helping in the fight. A trapdoor in the ground was wrenched open, and Naylen's man began taking loads of weapons down.

Theo was antsy, itching to join in the action of the active fighting. After another minute, the door shut and was quickly covered with dirt.

"Okay. Come on." Naylen stepped out, now fully covered with an assortment of munitions. Slung over his back was a long tube with a cone-shaped tip.

Theo grinned at the sight and rubbed his hands together. "Excellent. Do I get one?"

Naylen gave him an inscrutable look. "You've got your wand."

"Nothing makes an impact like a rocket launcher, though."

"Let's just get in there and help my people, shall we?" Naylen didn't wait for a response before he crept out to survey the scene. The sounds of guns firing and spells blasting were nearly constant. Naylen looked at Theo. "Wizard, huh? You sure had us fooled."

Theo shrugged. "I'm good at what I do."

"Show me." Then Naylen charged out, headed straight for the fight.

Theo ran after him, rapidly shooting spells. Draco, who didn't quite know what to do with himself, ran after them, his heart pounding so hard he thought it might burst. He'd only run ten yards before there was a flash beside him, and Hermione appeared, mid-stride, her wand raised and her expression determined.

"Granger!" he called. "I don't… I've never…"

"Stay close to me! Cast Shield Charms around our people, and if anyone gets hurt, you can work to heal them. I've got dittany in my bag." She didn't slow or pause in her spellwork. She was truly magnificent.

Draco did as he'd been told. He focused on protecting his side, mainly Hermione, while keeping an eye out for any injured. The sound of gunfire and the light of the spells were dizzying and nearly constant—Draco grew numb to them. He stayed as close to Hermione as he could, but it was difficult because she was drawing plenty of fire from the Death Eaters. He knew they had to be surprised to find someone in the Collective responding with magic, but that hadn't deterred them in the slightest.

From where he was, Draco couldn't tell what was happening. The gunfire kept up a steady presence, and whenever he saw one of their side fall, he Disillusioned himself and ran for them, pulling them to relative safety and checking for wounds. The Death Eaters weren't exclusively using the Killing Curse. For one thing, it took a long time to say, and for another, the caster had to really mean it. Other spells were quicker and easier, and the Death Eaters hadn't expected any magical resistance. The Killing Curse grew in frequency as the night wore on and they became more desperate.

Finally, just as the first tinges of gray began to creep into the sky, he saw the remaining Death Eaters turn and flee into the woods. He collapsed onto the ground, breathing hard, a relief unlike anything he'd ever experienced coursing through him. Hermione ran forward to join Theo and Naylen in examining the bodies. They had to make sure none of the enemy's fallen were faking injury or death. Draco forced himself to join them, staggering through the battlefield. In an unspoken, systematic manner, Theo and Hermione marked the dead of both sides, Levitating their bodies into two distinct areas. The injured were rushed into camp to be tended to by the Collective's lone doctor.

Draco wanted to help, but he was also terrified to uncover any of the faces of their foes. His worst fear was that he would see his father's face amongst the dead, so every unveiling came with a healthy dose of agony.

He'd just revealed another dead Death Eater, exhaling shakily upon discovering that it wasn't anyone he knew, when Theo cried out and called frantically for him.

Draco ran over, his every nerve screaming at him to run the opposite way, but knowing that he couldn't. Even if it _was_ someone he knew, it wasn't _his_ version of them. It was the other Draco's friends. Still, that didn't do anything for the state of his nerves or the rushing of blood in his ears. He'd seen enough death to last him a lifetime.

When he reached Theo's side, his eyes were wild and horrified. He pointed to the figure he'd unmasked, and Draco's breath caught.

"Oh, shit." It was Rodolphus Lestrange. Draco met Theo's equally anxious gaze. "Is he married to Bellatrix?"

Theo swallowed hard and nodded.

"Fuck." Draco knew that, once the Death Eaters discovered that Rodolphus had not made it back, his insane aunt would be out for blood. She would destroy the Collective in her rage.

"We need to tell Naylen," said Theo, Levitating Rodolphus's body to the pile where it belonged.

Draco nodded and they hurried to find the leader of the Collective.

Hermione had heard Theo's call and she came running, meeting up with the pair as they neared Naylen. Draco met her questioning gaze and said only one word. "Rodolphus."

Her face went white and her eyes widened, but she set her jaw and nodded. "What's the plan?"

Theo shook his head. "They have to leave."

"We can help," Hermione said. "We _will_ help." She grabbed Draco's arm. "This is what the Order needs us to do. Naylen will have no choice but to trust us, believe us, if we help them."

"Agreed." Draco hated to admit that she was right. His nerves were shot and he mainly wanted to go back to the Order Headquarters, curl into a ball, and sleep for a few days. But the only way out was through.

As the trio approached Naylen, he dismissed the person he'd been talking to. "What's going on? What's wrong?"

"Your side has killed one of their top Generals, I'm afraid," Theo said. "We have to evacuate this area. Now."

Naylen paled. "What? Why?"

"Because his wife is a sadistic lunatic who will not stop until this entire compound is levelled to the ground." Draco clenched his jaw. "I would know; she's my aunt. She will return with the biggest force she can muster and raze everything she sees. We have to act, and we have to act _now."_

Naylen glanced around at what was left of his group. Of those who'd survived, half were wounded, and the other half were tending to them. Everyone was exhausted, completely depleted from hours of constant fighting.

"Do you have another location where you can go?" Hermione asked.

The stunned leader only shook his head. "We, uh, have a backup location, but it's hours from here. There's no possible way to get everything packed and ready to leave in less than two hours."

"They'll be here long before then," Theo growled. "Where is this place?"

Naylen pulled out a crumpled piece of paper and handed it to him.

Theo glanced at it and gave it to Draco. "Is it secure? Could we go there right now?"

"Yes, it's empty, nothing around for miles."

"I'll go." Draco studied the picture with determination. "Naylen, come with me."

Naylen gave him a defiant stare. "Why? Why should I do anything you say? You came into my camp, lied to me, pretended to be one of us. Why on earth would I believe a word you say?"

"We aren't Death Eaters, Naylen," said Hermione. "We're magical, yes, but we don't agree with their plan or their actions. We're part of a group of wizards and witches who want to end the war, who are against their leader. We believe Muggles and magical folk can co-exist, live peaceably side by side. I know this war you've been in has gone on for decades, but it's not too late. There was peace before You-Know-Who. Our side has been looking for someone on your side to work together. The Order had hopes that it might be your group. Yes, we came here and deceived you, but in the end, what did we do? In no way did we harm you. We only wanted information on the Orb because a device like that would hurt _all_ magical people, not just the Death Eaters."

"They're coming for the Orb," Theo chimed in. "We can't let it fall into their hands."

"We don't have time to properly convince you." Draco shook the piece of paper. "Come with me, Naylen. I need you to show me this place and tell me what you need."

Naylen surveyed his compound once more, then sighed heavily. "I don't like it, but I don't know that I have much choice."

Theo scoffed. "Of course you do. You don't have to listen. You're free to stay here and be slaughtered by a horde of angry Death Eaters if you'd rather."

"Fine." Naylen's tone was clipped, resigned. At his word, Hermione dashed off and got to work, Theo heading after her.

Draco held out his arm. "You're not going to like this bit. Take my arm. The closer you are to me, the better for you."

Naylen complied, though he was clearly hesitant. "What? Why?"

Without warning, Draco Disapparated, clearing his thoughts and focusing on the photo from Naylen. When they landed, the other man stumbled and fell, then stood up and emptied his stomach into the nearest bush.

He stood shakily, wiping his mouth, eyes wide. "What—the fuck—was that?"

"We Apparated. We are now in the secure location." Draco walked toward the large, cleared area, thinking of the structures that were set up in their current hideout and mentally placing each one. He thought they would fit just fine. "You have some underground bunkers. How many do you need?"

Naylen, still gaping at Draco, shook his head slightly. Then he seemed to force his misgivings and worries aside, at least for the moment. "We've got two. One we use for long-term food storage and as a hideout, the other is a weapons cache. But it took us months to dig those out, there's no way they can be ready any time soon."

"Theo and I will take care of it. Now that I've seen this place, I'll be able to help get your people here."

Naylen chuckled slightly. "This is unbelievable. I knew your lot was powerful, but… what did you call it? Apparate? We just disappeared from there and appeared here, a hundred miles away? Is that how you plan to move my people here?"

Draco frowned. "No, that's impractical. We have other means of magical transportation."

"You called your friend, the other wizard, Theo?" Naylen stabbed the toe of his book into the ground. "He gave us a different name, which makes sense now. He's been with us for almost six months! I'd come to respect and almost trust him. Well, as much as I trust anyone, which is not saying a whole lot, but I've been betrayed more times than I can count, lost more people, more friends, than I care to remember. And I don't even know _your_ name."

Draco turned to the other man, a wave of sympathy washing over him. Yes, he'd been fighting wizards, killing them, even—he'd shot Hermione!—but he was only trying to do his best to protect those he cared about. Draco couldn't begin to comprehend the world he'd grown up in, so he didn't try. What he knew of Naylen, he respected; he seemed fair and honest, which was probably hard to find in his world.

He held out his hand. "Draco. Malfoy."

Naylen's eyes widened as they shook hands. "Malfoy? Haven't I heard your name?"

Draco chuckled. "Probably. I used to be one of them. But I'm not anymore."

"And your girl? I shot her only, what, three days ago? I can't believe she's not laid up in hospital still. Did she used to be one of them as well?"

Draco grimaced at the thought. "No. She's always been against them. She's one of the best people I know."

"You two aren't really married, are you? That was just a cover."

"No, we're not married."

Naylen burst out laughing, much harder than Draco thought strictly necessary. When he doubled over with laughter, Draco scowled. Finally, Naylen straightened. "Sorry, mate. It's just… you two were perfectly believable in everything except at night. Your tent was quiet as a graveyard. We had quite a few conversations about it, you know."

Draco gritted his teeth, but it _was_ quite amusing. After a moment, he let a smile crack. "Yes, perhaps it wasn't the best plan."

"Especially to say you were newly married. We'd expected to find you two in all kinds of places, tried to give you some privacy—I know living in a tent isn't the most ideal situation for being married." He peered at Draco mischievously. "Although, I did hear a few stories. My guys coming across you two, was all that just for show as well?"

"Yes," he replied stiffly.

Naylen clapped him on the back. "Well, at least those bits were convincing."

Draco sighed, deciding to let go of his annoyance over the topic. "She's one of the bravest, kindness, most loyal people I know. You're lucky to have her on your side right now."

"You know? I don't doubt that. I think she was almost more dangerous than Theo tonight."

"That wouldn't surprise me. She's also ruthless, cunning, and brilliant." Draco took one more long look around, familiarising himself with the area. "We should get back. There's still much to do."

Naylen nodded, eyeing Draco warily. "I suppose we have to do that Apparating thing again, don't we?"

"I'm afraid so."

Naylen looked a bit queasy at the thought. "Right, then. Let's get it over with."

As soon as Naylen opened his eyes once they were back, his jaw dropped. There was nothing left, though he could see the door to the underground bunker propped open. People were slowly climbing out, looking around in bewilderment and, in some cases, alarm.

"What's going on?"

Hermione approached then, wiping sweat from her brow. "Good, you're back. Everything's packed."

"Where's my camp?" Naylen demanded.

Draco thought the man looked as though his stomach dearly wanted another go at unloading its contents.

Hermione held up her beaded bag. "Everything is right in here. Except for the Orb. We decided it was too sensitive to risk shrinking it."

Naylen gaped at the bag. "In there? How is that possible?"

"Simple packing spells, really. We'll have all the time we need for discussion once we're safely away from here, but now isn't the time. We've got to get ready." She turned to Draco. "Theo and I have been talking about the Orb. We think the three of us should form a perimeter around it, magically sealed, and then you'll Apparate everything inside the perimeter to the new site."

Draco nodded. "Sure. And for the people, we should—"

"Portkeys." Hermione grinned and showed him what she'd been holding in her other hand. "Already collected some trash. You'll need to set them, since you've been to the new site."

Draco took the bag from her. "I'm on it."

"Granger!" Theo called, drawing her back to the Orb.

Draco watched her walk away, admiring the sway of her hips, the determined force to her stride.

"You fancy her." Naylen chuckled beside him.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I do." Draco wrenched his gaze from her arse, amazed at the fact that, in the midst of all the hustle and chaos of what they were doing, he'd still managed to be distracted by Hermione. It shouldn't have been a surprise; it wasn't just her arse he liked. She had been in sync with him and Theo, as though they'd plotted mischief dozens of times, as if the three of them had been working together for years. She was the most attractive woman he'd ever met, for her mind not least of all.

"So, what are you doing?"

Draco started walking to where Naylen's people were gathered. "I'll be setting up the transports to get everyone to the new site. You need to address your group. They're probably scared right now and need to hear from you."

"You're right. I've got to snap out of this… whatever I'm in. Shock, probably. Disbelief, definitely. I never would have guessed I'd be thanking someone like _you_ for saving me. For helping me. And not just me, everyone who looks to me to lead them. You're not half-bad, Draco Malfoy."

"Thanks," Draco muttered.

When they reached the huddled group, Draco hung back while Naylen spoke to them. He rummaged through the bag, selecting the best pieces to use for Portkeys. It was important to use items that were substantial; plastic was flimsy and sometimes didn't hold the magic necessary. Hermione knew this, of course, but she'd had to quickly gather what was available. Still, she'd managed to obtain a fair amount of metal items, which worked best, and he hoped they would be enough.

Naylen kept his speech short and sweet. "People, a lot's happened in the last few hours. I need to keep this short for now, but three of our erstwhile members, who we'd thought had betrayed us, have helped us survive a massacre this night. Unfortunately, the fight resulted in the death of a top General in the Death Eater ranks, and they'll be coming for us any minute. Those same people have, as you can see, completely packed up our camp and want to help get us to the new location. I need you all to trust me, as you've done for so long now, even if you don't trust them. I understand, trust me; not until I saw them fighting by my side did I even begin to think it possible to do so. This here is Draco Malfoy, and he's in charge of getting all of us safely away from here. There will be time for questions once we're in the new location."

"Draco!" Hermione called from across the field. "We're ready!"

"Give me a minute!" He turned back to the crowd staring at him, not a single look of trust on their faces. That didn't matter; what mattered was that they listened. Draco had prepared the Portkeys while Naylen spoke. "These are set to leave in three minutes. You must be physically touching the item to be transported with it. If you're not, you'll be left here. But don't worry, we won't abandon you. I'm going with the Orb, and Theo and Hermione will be in charge of making sure everyone gets away from here. Hermione will go with the first group. Theo will stay to make new Portkeys if necessary."

"Draco!"

He hurried over to where they stood around the Orb, she and Theo having already set up their parts of the barrier. Naylen followed. Draco tossed the Portkeys behind Hermione and repeated his instructions.

"Got it," she said.

Theo nodded. "I won't leave anyone."

Draco took a deep breath, then held up his arms, one pointing at Theo, the other to Hermione. He muttered the spell, closing the circle around the Orb. Then he focused on completing the spell to solidify the circle. It was one thing to Apparate by yourself, Side-Along Apparition was even less pleasant. He had never done this exact thing, though he'd read about it in school and after. Concentration was the key to successfully Apparating with an object.

When the barrier was complete, he left the circle and walked into it. Theo and Hermione spread out so they were standing opposite each other, maintaining the wall. Draco put one hand on the Orb, the other on the pedestal on which it sat. He closed his eyes and bent all his mind and will to seeing the destination clearly, as though he were looking at the picture again. Then, he stepped into the spell and began to swirl away. As he did so, however, he heard shouts.

When he landed in the new site, he knew instantly what had happened. The Death Eaters had returned and attacked just as he'd left with the Orb. He instantly wanted to return, but it wasn't safe to Apparate into a fight; it would be too easy to land in front of a stray spell or bullet.

He had to secure the Orb, which he did, knowing that the Portkeys should be activating any second.

After what felt like ages, he heard a crack and spun to see the four groups land. Most of the people, unused to such travel, fell or stumbled. He desperately sought Hermione, but he didn't see her. When he found someone he recognised, he rushed over to help her to her feet.

"What happened?" he asked.

"Death Eaters. They came back. Beth—or, whoever she is—stayed to fight. They had to make two more of these key things to get everyone out."

Draco growled, angry that he'd been separated from Hermione and unable to help. Portkeys needed at least a minute to set up, so he cleared everyone from the open space. When nobody arrived, he realised why.

"Fuck!" He grabbed the nearest person. "I have to go back. Don't let anybody leave! Keep them all safe, do you hear me?"

The other man nodded, clearly terrified. Draco released him and Disapparated to the far edge of the clearing, opposite the one where the Death Eaters had appeared the first time. The Collective had packed all their weapons, so they only had what they carried. Draco knew it wasn't nearly enough to fend off the full force of Death Eaters.

He saw a domed shield, and he knew Hermione and Theo were spending all of their energy keeping it up. Draco sprinted towards it, glad he was coming from the wrong side of the fight; hopefully nobody would notice his approach. He dove through the shield by casting the same Charm and melding it with theirs.

Hermione and Theo stood back to back, propping each other up. The rest of Naylen's people were huddled around them, crouched or lying on the ground to stay out of the way and out of the fight as much as possible. Draco slid to where the untouched bag of trash was, grabbed the first two metal objects inside, and set up two new Portkeys. He handed them to the remaining members of the Collective, who by now knew what to do. They huddled around them on the ground, lying in a circle with their arms stretched out to touch the objects.

While they waited for them to activate, Draco added his strength to the Shield Charm, backing up so he and the others formed a triangle. Once Naylen's people were gone, Draco felt relieved.

"Now what?" Hermione shouted.

"Fuck! Fucking shit, fuck!" Draco yelled, angry with himself. "I have to make one more for us! If this shield fails, we're done for!" He dropped out of the shield, quickly made another Portkey, then resumed his position. He held out the Portkey, a dented metal can, behind his back. "Touch it with your free hand!"

He felt Theo and Hermione's fingers reach the can, then he resumed his Shield Charm. The minute they stood there, the Charm being blasted by a hundred spells, was the most draining moment of his life. Yet he'd done everything he could; he'd given everything in him. All that was left was to hope that they could last long enough for the Portkey to activate.

The crashing of spells against the shield faded into a constant sound, and he almost smiled at the beauty of the different colored explosions raining down around them. He noticed Hermione's arm begin to shake, and he felt her finger slip on the can. "NO!" he shouted. "You hold on, Granger! Hold! On!" Her grip adjusted, and one of her fingers covered his.

Ten seconds later, the Portkey finally activated. He felt the pull behind his navel and wanted to relax, but he couldn't until they'd landed.

When their feet hit the ground again, all three of them collapsed. Draco, who'd been casting the spell for less time than the other two, didn't pass out. He pushed himself up to look around and saw, with relief, that Naylen was running towards them, followed by the doctor and another member carrying bottles of water.

Next, he looked to his companions. Hermione was out cold, her wand held limply in her hand. Theo didn't look much better, but Draco couldn't see his face.

"Shit, what happened?" Naylen dropped to his knees, white with fright, his eyes darting over the unmoving forms of Theo and Hermione.

"Exhausted." Draco groaned and rolled onto his back. "Utterly spent."

The doctor was beside Hermione first, checking her pulse. "It's weak but steady. She needs rest." She then went to Theo. "Same with him."

She approached Draco, but he waved her off. "I'm all right. I'm not injured."

Naylen sat back on his heels. "That… that was incredible. I've never—I don't—" He wiped his forehead and took a bottle from his mate. He opened it and handed it to Draco, who accepted it but still didn't feel like he could sit up to drink anything.

"What I need," said Draco, his breath coming in pants, "is in her bag."

Naylen hesitated. "You want me to get it?"

Draco nodded. "Just be careful."

He closed his eyes while Naylen worked, then felt the bag placed beside him. Draco reached in and tried to remember the rules of such magical items. He needed some kind of restorative potion, and he bent his mind towards locating one amongst everything Hermione stored in there. If he knew anything about her, it was that she kept a small arsenal of potions in her bag, though he doubted she'd ever imagined using one after fighting in a battle. They'd both thought those days were behind them.

After a minute or two, his hand closed around a bottle and he pulled it out. He grinned when he read the label: RESTORATIVE DRAUGHT. He tried to sit but his arms wouldn't support him. Naylen and the doctor hurried to his side and helped him up. Draco clumsily uncapped the bottle and swallowed just enough; he needed to save the rest for his friends. He instantly felt better and indicated that the others could release him. They did, apprehensively, but he didn't need them any more.

Draco stood, much to their astonishment, and hurried to Hermione's side. He lifted her head into his lap and tilted her so the potion could flow down her throat. Hands shaking, he opened her mouth and poured in more than half of what was left in the bottle. She made a strangled sound but her eyes fluttered open, then widened upon seeing him hovering over her.

"Draco!" She sat up quickly and flung her arms around his neck, pulling him against her like a vice.

He chuckled, supporting himself so he wouldn't fall over. "Hey, Granger." Her eyes were shut tight as she held him, and he could feel her silently sobbing. He wrapped his arms around her tenderly, everything around them momentarily forgotten. After a long moment, he brushed her hair away from her face so he could speak softly to her. "I need to help Theo."

Hermione pulled back, tear tracks running down her cheeks. She wiped her eyes, smiling as she continued to cry. "Yeah, right."

Draco left her there and went to the man to whom they owed everything. The doctor was there, Theo's head already in her lap. She opened his mouth while Draco administered the potion. Soon, Theo, too, roused, though he was a lot grumpier than Hermione had been.

When his eyes opened, he seemed completely confused about where he was and why, but then his gaze landed on Draco and he sighed. "We made it, then?"

"Barely. But we made it."

Theo sat up, stretching his sore arms. "Granger had potion?"

"Of course she did," said Draco with a snort. "But we all still need some proper rest."

"I've never seen anything like this." Naylen was shaking his head. "Do potions work on us, too?"

Draco shrugged. "They're not nearly as effective, since the magic in them works with the magic in us to cause their effects. I'm afraid I've no idea how the mixing of magical and Muggle technology works." He glanced at Theo, whom he thought was sure to know a lot more.

But Theo only shook his head. "It's not really something that's been tested. For as long as anyone can remember, there have been no efforts at bridging the two sides. The Death Eaters have made sure that no Muggles trust any of us." He looked at Naylen. "Hopefully, we can work on changing that."

Draco stood and helped Hermione up. Theo slowly rose to his feet. "I can't believe we did it. I thought for sure that Charm would fail."

"Everybody made it out alive. I can't believe it." Naylen stood and helped the doctor up. Everyone took long drinks of water. "And you still say that my entire camp is in that bag?"

Hermione retrieved her bag from the ground where Draco had left it. A quick look inside made her smile. "Everything is right where it should be. We can set up your camp whenever you're ready."

Draco looked at his friend. "Theo. They need two underground bunkers."

Theo nodded. "Maybe after a rest, yeah? I don't think I could Transfigure a button into a beetle right now."

* * *

When Draco woke up, the sun was nearing the horizon. He yawned and stretched, forgetting momentarily why he was so sore and still so exhausted. He'd never held a Shield Charm against so many attacks before, and it had significantly drained him. A quick glance around their rude tent showed that Theo was still passed out, snoring lightly in the corner. Hermione, however, was nowhere to be seen.

Draco slowly swung his legs over the side of the cot, his head thick and his whole body screaming in protest. He felt that he could probably sleep twelve more hours if given the chance, but he needed food and they had work to do. He left Theo and exited, squinting at the bright light outside.

The members of the Collective were huddled near the middle of the clearing.

"Naylen called a meeting."

He jumped, startled to find Hermione beside him. She had on a jumper, her hair was put up in a messy ponytail, and she had a mug of something steaming in her hand. When she saw where his gaze landed, she held it out to him. "Tea. It's incredible."

Draco held up a hand. "Thanks, but no. You enjoy. What are they meeting about?"

"Us, I suspect. Naylen and I had a long talk. He apologised for shooting me." Hermione chuckled and took a sip. Merlin, the way the dying light was hitting the serene expression on her face... Draco was struck by just how beautiful she was. "I told him all about the Order, how there are lots of magical people like us, who don't want to destroy everyone like him. You-Know-Who has gone to great efforts to sow discord between the two factions, culminating in an all-out war that's been raging for years. Before that, it was decades of guerilla warfare, groups attacking in the shadows, gathering intelligence, and sending out spies. They've spent so much time developing more and more sophisticated ways to destroy each other."

She looked at him, and he saw that she looked tired but content. "I've asked him if he'd like to meet with someone from the Order. My guess is, he's talking to his people. I think he wants to say yes."

Theo stumbled out of the tent, rubbing his eyes. "What'd I miss?"

Hermione laughed lightly, and Draco felt a little stab of jealousy—which was ridiculous, he knew. She had kissed _him_ , had wanted _him_ by her side, even when they didn't have to pretend. As if she had read his thoughts, Hermione stepped close and took his hand. Draco's annoyance melted, and he bent down to kiss her forehead.

Draco suddenly remembered the terms Naylen had agreed to in exchange for their help. "Why did you ask for a device, Theo?"

"Oh. That. Wasn't that a year ago? Merlin, I can't believe that was less than twenty-four hours ago. I figured, since we'd erased your device, we'd need another one. One for the Order to use to duplicate, and the other so you two could try to get home."

"Thank you, Theo." Hermione squeezed Draco's hand. "I think they're done."

They all turned to where the Collective had been huddled to see the circle widening. Naylen, the doctor, and another two of his people were headed their way.

Draco stepped out to meet him, and Naylen held out his hand. Draco shook it, something like pride swelling in his chest. It was a different thing to shake hands now that there were no lies between them.

Man to man. Like an equal.

"Now, about the rest of my camp." Naylen grinned.

Draco pointed at Theo. "We need to dig those bunkers."

Theo yawned. "Right. Just say where."

Naylen arched an eyebrow. "Just like that?"

"Just like that." Theo smirked. "We'll cast a spell or two and dig the holes, but you're on your own for getting them neat and orderly."

Naylen laughed. "That's quite all right. The digging takes the longest."

Theo yawned again. "Ready, Draco?"

"Yes." His stomach rumbled and he addressed Naylen. "Has there been discussion of food, by any chance?"

"Preparations are underway as we speak." Naylen pointed over his shoulder to where Draco could see a fire going. "And while I appreciate your desire to complete the digging tonight, before you begin, I want to tell you we have made a decision about meeting with your Order."

Hermione straightened, gripping Draco's hand tighter.

Naylen grinned. "It wasn't a long discussion, not after the way you three helped us today. Granted, had our devices not been disabled—by you lot—we'd have held our own a bit better, but in the end, I think this was the better outcome. There's no way we'd have survived a second onslaught. Not after what I saw in the few minutes of being under attack inside that shield." He grimaced. "Nobody who was there doubts you, and the rest didn't take much convincing once they heard that story. When you finally arrived, everybody thought you were dead."

"As good as," said Theo. "That was the most intense spell casting I have ever been involved in. Granger, you're unbelievable. She kept that shield in place through sheer force of will. I'd have quit long before we had a chance to escape. How did you do it?"

Hermione blushed prettily, her eyes darting to him. He encouraged her with a smile. "There was no other choice. We had to keep the shield up. I knew Draco would realise we were stuck and come back."

He squeezed her hand, his heart swelling impossibly at her absolute confidence in him. Nobody had ever been so sure of him in his whole life.

"Well, it was incredible. I don't know much about magic—" Naylen chuckled and ran a hand through his hair. "—okay, anything really—but that looked extremely hard."

Hermione and Theo exchanged a glance, and Draco knew they had suffered most. She nudged closer to Draco and leaned her head against him.

"Fucking understatement," said Theo.

Naylen shook his head and the others laughed. "Listen, let's eat, then I suppose someone needs to set up our meeting. Then you two can start on the bunkers?"

Draco shrugged. "I don't see why not."

The others who'd come up with Naylen melted away, heading back to where dinner was being prepared and their fellow mates were congregating.

Naylen remained. "Listen, Draco. I won't say this again, but I really appreciate everything you've done." His eyes shifted to Hermione and then Theo. "Thank you."

Draco wondered if they'd accomplished more than simply helping Naylen's group against the Death Eaters and then saving their lives. He hoped that it was the beginning of something that would change the course of the war for the people in this timeline.

"We can start getting your camp set up." Hermione brandished her beaded bag. "It shouldn't take us long, and we can save the tents over the bunkers until they're ready."

Naylen rubbed the back of his neck. "I suppose we do need shelter for the night, don't we? All right then, tell me what to do."

Draco looked at Hermione to find her watching him. He nodded slightly, and she smiled.

"Draco and I will work on it with you." She set her mug down.

"I'll go see about the food, yeah?" Theo stretched once more, then left them in search of the food.

She found his hand and grasped it firmly. "Where do you want to begin?"

* * *

After dinner, when the campsite was set up for the night, Hermione sent a Patronus to Order Headquarters while Draco and Theo worked on digging out the bunkers. It was dirty, sweaty work, not the sort that Draco usually engaged in, but it felt really good all the same. He couldn't begin to guess why, but it was the kind of mind-numbing work that enabled him to go completely blank. There was nothing to think about except the task at hand, no extra energy for his thoughts to spin out of control.

Halfway through the first bunker, Draco was drenched in sweat. They paused for some water, and Theo walked about ten paces away into some shade. Draco started to follow and saw Theo pull his shirt off. He wanted to do the same, but hesitated. He had so many scars, and the Dark Mark stood out plainly on his pale skin.

"Aren't you hot, mate?" Theo asked.

"Yeah."

Theo waited for him to say more, then chuckled. "Don't worry, you're not my type "

Draco felt his cheeks redden. He had been one of only a few people his friend Theo at home had told about having feelings for blokes. He wondered about this Theo.

"It's not that. I just... I have scars..." He trailed off, feeling more embarrassed.

Theo snorted. "Mate, if you've fought in a war, you're going to have scars." He turned around, showing Draco his back. It was a horribly mottled mess of skin, hastily healed wounds and botched patch jobs. Theo turned back around. "I haven't taken time to get it sorted, but magic keeps it from hurting too bad and it keeps me mobile."

Draco did his best not to grimace. "You ever been shot?"

"Yeah. Three times." Theo shook his head. "Almost didn't recover from the last one, but the Dark Lord takes care of his soldiers."

With a sigh and a decision to trust this man, Draco removed his shirt. His scars were primarily located on his chest, most notably the one given to him by Potter.

Theo's gaze swept over him in a clinical manner that made the scrutiny more bearable. Then, he nodded once. "Yup. Looks like you've seen plenty of action."

Draco took a long drink of his water and recapped the bottle. "The irony is, most of it's _not_ from fighting."

"Oh?" Theo looked surprised, then his gaze drifted to Draco's arm. His eyes widened. "You'd mentioned a Mark. That's _his_ symbol, isn't it?"

Draco nodded. "Yes. He branded his followers where I'm from. The Death Eaters were supposed to be a secret group, and this was a way to discreetly mark each one. He could communicate through the Mark as well, calling us whenever he needed something." His voice only wavered once at the recollection of some of the more gruesome calls he'd answered.

Theo shook his head. "I'm so sorry. Since we—the Death Eaters, I mean… I keep slipping, I know, old habits and all—are fully in the open here, I suppose there was no need for such a thing. Though it does sound like something he'd do."

"I had hoped it would fade with his demise, but it hasn't." Draco shrugged and took hold of his wand once more. "At least I'm never far from my mistakes. It keeps me grounded."

Theo put his water down and followed Draco back to the bunker.

Once they'd finished that one, they took another break. The sun had long set, and the messages being sent back and forth between Hermione and the Order flitted across the clearing like a light show. The Muggles enjoyed seeing the various animal shapes come speeding through, and Draco thought they were adapting to being around magic surprisingly fast—only to then remind himself that they'd lived in a world with magic their whole lives. The only difference now was that they weren't afraid of it. At least, not the magic they were seeing.

Draco and Theo went to refill their water bottles before beginning the second bunker. Naylen joined them after surveying their work.

"That's incredible. I suppose I thought you'd… I don't know, make it disappear or something." He chuckled at his own thoughts. "Do you want to do the second one tomorrow? We're loading up the weapons bunker now; we should be safe without a second for the night."

Hermione walked up then. "The meeting is set for dawn tomorrow, Naylen. The leader of the Order will be here to meet you, along with a few representatives."

Draco laughed. "Sounds like we're finishing tonight. It's alright though, nothing too strenuous."

Naylen looked at him and Theo skeptically, their shirts dripping with sweat, their hair matted to their foreheads. "Looks like you've run a hundred miles."

"The exertion is more mental than physical," Theo chimed in. "Concentration, keeping things contained and going where we want them to go. Things like that. We thought you might want that dirt saved for some other projects."

"Ah, yes, I suppose making it disappear wouldn't help with that goal, would it?" Naylen chuckled. "Well, I'll leave you to it. Hermione, could we discuss the meeting tomorrow morning while they're at work? Or do you want to help them?"

Draco wanted desperately to interject and tell her that she should really rest. After all, she _had_ been shot very recently and then nearly spent herself on the shield less than twelve hours before. But he suspected she wouldn't appreciate his interference very much, so he scowled at the ground instead.

But he needn't have worried.

"I think they've got it sorted. I'm a bit sore, honestly, around the bullet wound, so I ought to take it easy tonight." She gave Draco a sideways look, as though she knew what he'd been thinking.

Naylen paled in horror. "Oh, shit, I—I'm so thoughtless. I'm sorry, Hermione. We can talk in my tent where you can sit."

Draco and Theo left them to begin the second bunker. The work went quicker this time because they'd learned a few tricks, and it was cooler, so the task wasn't quite so grueling. Naylen joined them as they were completing the finishing touches: smoothing the walls and edging the steps down into the bunker.

Naylen glanced at the space with something like awe. "This is incredible. To think, we spent weeks digging those other spots. And they weren't nearly as neat and square as this. You've more than demonstrated to me that I was wrong about wizards. Well, some wizards, at least."

Draco grinned, slightly out of breath. "Glad to hear it."

"I've come to show you where you'll be staying tonight. Draco, I put you in the same tent you were in before." He gave him a significant look, and Draco felt his cheeks burn. "Theo, your old hammock is up for you."

"Excellent." Theo clapped his hands together. "Is there a stream nearby? I need to wash up before I try to sleep."

"Yes, I'll take you both there." Naylen led them up the steps and out into the night sky. Most of the camp was quiet now, only the dying embers of the fire still visible. Crickets and night bugs chirped as they walked silently through the clearing and into the woods on the opposite side.

Draco felt his weariness all the way to his bones. He yawned as he followed Naylen, who started a quiet conversation with Theo once they entered the woods. He didn't even try to listen. When they reached the water, he and Theo stripped, bathed, and dressed in a matter of minutes. The water was so cold that neither had been tempted to linger.

Naylen led them back to camp and pointed out Theo's hammock. Then he grinned at Draco. "Camp is laid out essentially the way it was before. I trust you can find your way?"

"Sure. Right. Thanks, Naylen." He stifled a yawn as he waved, then began the short walk to where the tent he'd shared with Hermione should be located. And if Naylen's ridiculous smiles were anything to go by, he'd find Hermione there. Hopefully, she'd already be asleep and he could crawl in beside her. He didn't think he'd take two breaths before falling asleep.

He carefully unzipped the tent, not wanting to make a lot of noise. Once inside, he let his eyes adjust to the light. There wasn't much, so he could only make out where the cot was and saw that, indeed, there was a person-sized lump already there. His heart skipped a happy beat and he stared at the silhouette of her body. It was cold, naturally, so she would be wrapped in many blankets and her warmest clothes.

Draco stripped down to his shorts and crawled in beside her. Hermione stirred, turning to face away from him. That was no matter, however, as soon as he settled, he felt her move, scooting backward until her body was flush with his. Draco couldn't believe what a truly bizarre turn his life had taken, but he would forever be grateful for the witch by his side.

He turned to face her, wrapping his arm around her and tucking her next to him. She let out a sigh in her sleep that was slightly distracting, but as soon as he let his body fully relax, he was asleep.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _In Dreams wrote this chapter._

Dawn broke, the faint light of it teasing through the fabric of their tent. Draco stirred awake, his body and magical core weary in tandem from the exertions of the day before.

But a certain lightness crept in that he hadn't known in a long time. Hermione was in his arms, sound asleep against his chest, and Draco brushed a kiss to her curls.

Memories from the day before trickled in, and although he knew the battle with the Death Eaters would spell trouble for the Collective, he also knew their best shot would be to work with the Order. At last, Naylen had decided to see reason.

And while it might not have been their original intent when infiltrating the Collective, Draco harboured a small hope it could turn the tides of this timeline's war.

Hermione stirred, blinking bleary eyes up at him before pressing a soft kiss to his lips. Her mouth curled with a coy smile. "Good morning."

"It certainly is morning," Draco said, stifling a yawn. "Whether it's a _good_ one is yet to be determined."

Her smile widened, lighting her eyes from within. "I have faith. Naylen and Harry are both impossibly stubborn. But they need one another."

Briefly, Draco basked in her certainty, feeling a flicker of it inside himself before he sobered.

"And _we_ need to find our way home." He held her stare for a long moment, tracing the line of her cheekbone with his fingertips. "Maybe Naylen's software will be able to help us."

Her smile dropped. "We removed the faulty programming in order to replace it with the Collective's magic tracking program. Even if we knew what went wrong with the other Draco's device, we can't access it anymore."

Draco only shrugged, rolling onto his back and tugging her with him into his chest. "Theo thinks there might be a way to recover it. Some sort of file restoration. But we'll need help from their experts."

Hermione released a long breath and the light returned to her eyes. "After the meeting with the Order we'll talk to Naylen about it." She caught his stare, her smile coy. "We've been here this long―what's a little more?"

"If I'm with you," Draco said, offering a wry smirk, "it doesn't matter which timeline we're in."

A snicker escaped her lips even as her eyes narrowed. "Smooth."

"I thought so," he huffed, dragging her in for another kiss.

* * *

They scrambled out of bed as the consistent hum of activity rose in the new camp, throwing on some clothes and heading for the makeshift atrium that had been established.

Hermione cocked her brow, unimpressed, as she gazed upon him. Draco frowned, adjusting the shoulder straps of his sword's holster as he asked, "What?"

"Did you _have_ to bring that?" she asked, rolling her eyes. "The Collective knows you have magic. I can't see why bringing a _sword_ to a meeting about two opposing groups collaborating can possibly help matters."

He wrinkled the bridge of his nose. "I like it."

Lips twitching, she shook her head. "You like that it makes you look imposing."

Draco flickered his brows and clicked his tongue. When he didn't respond, she nudged him in the side. "I'm only joking."

"I won it in battle," he clipped, "fair and square. In fact I may try and bring it home with me."

Merlin, it felt like it had been so long ago that they'd stumbled across one another near the ruins of the Ministry. He could still remember the chaos of the wizards and Muggles fighting outside of her building, reduced to a pile of dust and ash.

She fell silent, as though remembering the same. When she spoke, her voice was softer. "I don't know that we'll be able to bring anything back with us."

They arrived at the communal space that had been thrown together the night before while Draco and Theo dug the bunkers, slipping in along the outsides of the crowd.

"Where are we at?" Draco asked as Theo noticed them and sidled over.

"The Order operatives are due to arrive by Portkey any minute now. I've lowered the wards we installed on the camp last night so they can get through." When Draco nodded, Theo snickered. "Nice sword, mate."

Draco huffed.

But as Theo suggested, only moments later, three men appeared in the centre of the atrium with a soft blue glow. Many people stumbled back a few steps to give them a wide berth as Potter, Weasley, and Sirius Black stepped forward, Potter tucking the rusted flagon Portkey into his cloak.

Naylen strode forward, his shoulders back and chin high as he extended a hand. Potter gave it a brisk shake, although neither leader looked as if they wanted to be there.

Potter said gruffly, "So you're the one who shot Hermione."

"Yes." Naylen paled visibly but stood his ground. For a long, tense moment the two stared at one another until finally Potter cracked a grin.

"You must have some nerve, then," he said, before drifting out of the circle and walking towards them. Potter assessed Hermione and Draco, his stare lingering for a beat longer on Nott, before he nodded. Dropping his voice so only the three of them could hear, he said, "I hope this is worth revealing ourselves."

Nott snickered, presumably at the double entendre, and Potter shot him a glance though his lips twitched.

Naylen announced to the newcomers, "We've arranged a place to talk."

"Lead the way." Potter extended his hand with a flourish as he fell into step with Weasley and Sirius. As Naylen walked by with a few of the Collective's high level operatives, he nodded towards Draco then tilted his head towards the tent where they were to speak.

Adjusting the straps of his sword holster once more, Draco followed along, Hermione and Theo at his sides.

"I'm surprised you two haven't left Potter and Naylen to sort this out between them," Theo said casually as they walked, dragging their feet for a little privacy. "It's not like this is your fight."

"We still need to fix the device." Draco exchanged a glance with Hermione. "We'll do what we can to assist with this partnership, and if all goes well, we'll be leaving soon."

Theo clicked his tongue. "I must say you're easier to get along with than the Draco from this timeline. And I can't say I've ever known much about the other Hermione."

Hermione peered around Draco and quipped, "You're on their side now."

"True."

They arrived at the Collective's strategy tent—Draco had never seen the interior of it—and took up spots along one wall to observe as the Collective and the Order members sat around a small table in the centre.

Theo was right—it wasn't their job to see the rest of this timeline's war through, but they had been here long enough, and had come to know these people well enough that he wanted to ensure they left them on the right foot.

And to give them any assistance they could in moving towards ending their war with Riddle and the Death Eaters.

So when Potter and Sirius had asked about the Death Eater attack the previous day, Draco, Hermione, and Theo offered as much information as they could to assist with Naylen's retelling. While the Collective knew how everything had gone, they didn't know the specifics about who the Death Eaters had been.

Potter, Weasley, and Sirius listened through the explanation, their faces grave.

Sirius frowned. "So your lot killed General Lestrange and then left your original camp to come here?"

"Yes." Naylen's gaze flickered to the three of them. "These three really helped by getting us out in time. We would have lost many more lives if not for them."

Potter only hummed, though Draco could have sworn pride danced in his eyes when he cast them another brief glance. "And tell us about these devices you've built. Our operative Malfoy built something similar but we couldn't quite get it to work."

"That's why we broke into the Collective's camp," Theo added with a snicker.

Naylen added darkly, "And disabled all of _our_ devices just before a major attack."

Theo sank back against the wall.

"The fact remains," Potter pressed on, "this is valuable technology. You possess a method of not only detecting but tracking magical users. We would seek to work together—the Order of the Phoenix and the Collective—and use our combined knowledge and skill to take down the Death Eaters once and for all. Our enemy is the same; we don't seek quarrel with you or any other Muggles."

"After seeing just how valuable magic users can be to the cause yesterday," Naylen said, sharing a look with his team, "we're inclined to agree."

Potter brandished a hand across the table, and after a tense beat, Naylen gave him a firm handshake. Both shared a grin.

The only one who looked skeptical was Sirius. Draco found himself eyeing his mother's cousin, wondering what sort of life the man had faced in this timeline, and whether he might have had the chance to get to know Sirius back home if he had survived.

The thought caused a strange flutter in Draco's chest, and as he glanced at Hermione, for the first time since all of this had happened, he felt homesick. Almost every moment since arriving in this timeline had been fraught with uncertainty and doubt, if not outright fear, but at last they knew the situation.

Now that the idea of returning home was within their grasp, he found himself looking forward to it.

He couldn't be certain whether things between him and Hermione would remain as they were now—and, in fact, he could only assume it would be an entirely different landscape to navigate—but being in this timeline felt as if he'd put every other aspect of his life on hold.

When her eyes lifted to meet his, Draco smiled. He was ready to start moving forward again.

Hermione's hand slipped into his and he gave her soft fingers a squeeze.

At the table in the centre of the room, Potter and Weasley had begun an effort to explain the concept of Horcruxes to the Collective operatives, who stared on in varying states of horror.

If nothing else, he liked to think that their abrupt arrival in this time had helped matters, even if only a little.

It made Draco wonder what other sorts of potential lives they might have lived, if these parallel timelines existed in perpetuity.

When Potter stumbled over his explanation of the Horcruxes and how they might factor into the situation, Hermione duplicated several chairs with her wand—the Collective's representatives blinked at her, as if still growing accustomed to the presence of magic wielders in their midst—and she pulled up a seat at the table.

Draco and Theo took the other chairs, listening on from a distance.

As he listened to Hermione explain the Horcruxes that had existed during their timeline, he found himself marvelling at everything she had actually done in an effort to end their war.

It further bolstered his conviction that they needed to get back home. She had already done her part to end one war. Not that Draco had contributed anything positive to the effort back then—but he had a chance to do something about it now.

And he could only imagine how heavily the idea of going through it all over again must have sat on her.

Those thoughts on his mind, Draco explained everything he had known about the version of Voldemort in their timeline, allowing for corrections from Theo.

Between those assembled, they gathered a wealth of information on the situation, and Draco found himself hoping it might be enough in the end.

* * *

After an hour of listening to the group debate strategies and terms of collaboration, Draco felt himself begin to droop. His magic was still strained from the exertion of the day before, and he could only imagine how Hermione felt. She had nearly exhausted her entire spring of magic holding that shielding spell up, after having been shot only days before.

When he caught her gaze as the Order and the Collective began to draft a contract, her smile looked a little forced and he could see the weariness in her stare.

No one had thrown any spells or punches, so it felt safe for him, Hermione, and Theo to duck out of the tent. They ventured towards the atrium in stilted silence. Since the meeting had been scheduled for so early, many of the Collective were still eating breakfast.

The three of them slipped into line, receiving plates of food, and Draco felt hunger gnawing at his stomach at the smell of crisp bacon as they sat at one of the empty tables.

Already the new camp had begun to look like the old one, and many of the Muggles waved to them.

Draco found himself more invested in the outcome of their war that he had initially foreseen. He was drawn from his thoughts as Hermione nudged him in the side, swallowing a bit of her breakfast.

"You've been somewhere else," she said quietly. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah." Draco released a long breath. "I guess I'm just thinking about going back."

A slow smile tugged at her lips, and before he could say anything more, Theo let out a sigh.

"Hypothetically speaking," Theo said, "if I were to go _back with you_ —"

"That isn't happening," Draco said with a bark of laughter. "We're trying to fix one problem, not create new ones."

"Okay but." Theo shot him a glare. "Maybe the Theo from your timeline will be interested in swapping places with me. We'd have to assume from this side of the situation, of course, because it sounds like he'd be sent here automatically. But maybe he'd really enjoy it here." He scratched the back of his neck, and carried on. "Aside from the war I guess, and the fact that the city's mostly been destroyed and it isn't safe to go anywhere…"

Draco only snickered and took a swig of juice. Hermione's foot pressed against his beneath the table as she failed to stifle a giggle.

But Theo deflated a little, frowning. "It feels like I don't belong on either side anymore. I've defected from the Death Eaters and you know Riddle would be happy to kill me for it. Obviously I don't belong with the Collective anymore either, even though I spent the last few months here. And I'm not one of the Order."

The humour sloughed from the conversation as quickly as it had arrived, and Draco eyed the approximation of his friend across the table. "I don't think that's the case. You're moving on from an unhealthy situation with the Death Eaters. You were never _really_ part of the Collective because you were only there to get information for Riddle. And…" He shrugged, hesitating for a moment. "I think you've already proven your worth to Potter and the Order. I think if you asked, they would take you on as a full member."

Draco could tell the situation still bothered Theo even as he nodded, his eyes dull.

"And," Draco added, "I can't say for certain, of course, but I think the Draco from this timeline would be willing to accept you as a friend again now that you're not a Death Eater anymore."

"Yeah. I suppose you're right." Theo forced a grin that didn't reach his eyes.

Hermione ducked her chin, staring hard at Theo for a moment. "We'll miss you too, Theo."

At last he huffed a laugh, some of the sparkle coming back into his face as he snapped a strip of bacon in two and ate half of it. "Fine, fine, I'll miss you both when you go home without me."

Lips twitching, Hermione said, "And don't tell me you missed that look Harry gave you when he first arrived here this morning."

Theo grinned. "I didn't."

* * *

Several hours later, the sun reaching high into the sky, the canvas doors of the Collective's strategy tent finally swung open and the group emerged, Potter and Naylen in conversation with one another.

Where each of them had been heavy with tension and uncertainty that morning upon entering the tent, Draco could see the fresh infusion of hope and determination as they walked towards the atrium for lunch.

For lack of anything else to do—and for old time's sake—he, Hermione, and Theo had spent a portion of the morning training in the archery pits with a few others from the Collective. They had created a game with a system of points, and Draco had lost every round; clearly Theo's time in the Muggle organisation had allowed him to hone his archery skills because even Hermione hadn't been able to beat him once.

He could understand Theo's melancholy over the thought of them returning home so soon, and tried to imagine how he would have felt had he not stumbled across Hermione.

For all he knew, he would have ended up stuck here forever if he had tried to face this situation alone, forced to fight through the entirety of another war. But Draco had faith this war would come to an end too.

Chugging a bottle of cold water, Draco dropped into a seat beside Hermione. The air had grown hot as they practiced, and fatigue had once again crept in.

She had already drawn out their device, tapping various buttons on their surfaces; he couldn't understand the technology well enough to know what she was doing. All Draco could imagine was that she was trying to navigate towards the programming they had deleted.

"I took a look at it last night," Theo admitted, "and I think I know where the other Draco might have gone wrong. May I?" He reached for the device and Hermione nodded, sliding it across the table.

Theo tapped through numerous prompts, a heavy furrow between his brows before he grimaced. "I can't say for certain, and I definitely don't know how it backfired so badly. To go from detecting magic to pulling your exact signatures here from a different dimension makes no sense."

Draco could feel eyes on him as Theo and Hermione discussed details about computers that were beyond him, and he glanced sidelong to find Naylen watching them. Moments later, the man excused himself from his company and strode over, taking up the seat beside Theo.

With a deep swig of his water Draco said, "It looked like your meeting went well this morning."

"It did." Naylen offered a brisk smile. "I am cautiously optimistic that the Collective and the Order will be able to work together and that this partnership will benefit all of us."

"Good."

They fell silent while Naylen stared at the device, before reaching for it where it sat on the table. He fidgeted with the buttons for a moment, frowning. "What exactly did this do that you need it to fix?"

Draco caught Hermione's stare. Her eyes flashed before she said, "This device pulled Draco and I from an entirely different timeline and swapped us with the Draco and Hermione that actually live here."

Naylen stared at her, his expression hard.

"It's true," Draco quipped.

Naylen scoffed. "How is that even possible?"

"That's what we've been trying to figure out since we arrived here," Hermione said with a shrug. "The magical detection element went wrong. The trouble has been to get it to work in the same way again to send us back."

Naylen flipped the device over again, twisting his face as if he couldn't quite comprehend what they had just told him. "But it was meant to work as ours do?"

"Yes," Draco said, "that's why we requested one of your devices. We'd like to see where the problem was… and if that might help us to fix ours."

"Do you think that will help?" Naylen dropped the device onto the table and reached for his own, holstered at his waist, before setting it alongside. "The technical logistics of it don't make sense to me but I'm not the one who originally programmed them. A lot of science went into our programming and it sounds like what you're hoping to fix is magical in nature."

Draco grimaced at the thought that the Muggles might not be able to help them with it after all, even as he eyed the second device they had worked so hard to get. But he could only hope that Theo's unique experience on both sides might yet help them.

"The problem is that we replaced our software with yours so the Order could duplicate it before we knew you'd be willing to help us," Hermione said with a wince. "We were hoping your specialists would be able to restore it."

"Even though it didn't work?" Naylen lifted a brow.

Draco clicked his tongue, blowing out a breath. "We need to make it not work again. It's our only hope of getting back home."

Thick tension hung between them as they all processed the implications for a moment. Draco wondered how they would actually be able to recreate the problem that had come up with his alternate self's experiments without knowing what had gone wrong in the first place.

Finally Naylen gave each of them a look. "Well, we won't know unless we try. Come on then."

* * *

Naylen's computer expert was a small man named Gilbert who Draco could remember having seen only in passing several times during their week within the Collective's compound. He wasn't one of their main fighters which explained why they hadn't seen him in training—but it sounded as though he might have been even more valuable as the person in charge of all the Collective's technology.

He listened to the situation, awe mingled with curiosity when Draco and Hermione explained how they had landed in an entirely different timeline, before peering closely at their device for several minutes in silence.

Draco, Hermione, and Theo waited patiently in chairs within what had been set up as their new technology tent. The large computer they had hacked the day before had been set up in place on a desk and Gilbert had connected their device in the same way Theo had. Gilbert typed something into the keyboard, his fingers clacking against the keys with such haste Draco wondered if he actually knew what he was typing.

Theo dragged his seat closer so he could watch Gilbert's work, but none of it made any sense to Draco, and with a little dumb luck, he wouldn't have to worry about it too much longer.

But it made sense for Theo, who would most likely remain on with the Order in some capacity, to have a working knowledge of computers.

Draco eyed Hermione as they sat in silence near the entrance, only paying attention as she stifled a yawn.

She spoke softly at last, her gaze lingering on the computer. "Do you think this will work and we can actually get home?"

"I don't know," Draco admitted. It seemed an almost insurmountable task. "But I hope so. As interesting as it's been to wind up in the middle of another war, I'm ready for the peace of being back home."

"Me too," she said quietly, dragging her bottom lip between her teeth as if speaking the words aloud was somehow shameful. "I want them to figure this all out between the Order and the Collective—I do—but there's a part of me that just wants to be back home. We've already fought in our war, you know?"

"I know." Draco slung an arm around the back of her chair and she inched closer, sinking into his hold. "I feel the same way."

Her eyes slid towards his, something flickering beneath her stare he couldn't quite place, but before she could say anything Gilbert spoke.

"I might have found something." The man's eyes narrowed as he peered at the computer. "I was able to trace back the override from yesterday and revert the operation in order to restore your previous software." He hesitated for a moment as Draco and Hermione gathered behind Theo.

The jumble of words on the screen might have been a wholly different language for all Draco could tell, but he nodded along, understanding the basics.

And the basics sounded promising.

"We can see here," Gilbert went on, pointing towards several lines of code, "where the… _other_ variation of you attempted to enable the magic tracking. It's a complex bit of tech, and honestly quite impressive. But instead of locating magical signatures in general as ours do in order to track them down, _this_ software targets the user's magical signature."

Comprehension dawned in the back of Draco's mind. "And since Hermione and I were the ones testing the device—"

Theo offered him a grim look. "The other Draco's device didn't fail at all. It did exactly what it was meant to do."

"It was just a programming error?" Hermione asked, her gaze squinted as if she could almost understand. "When the device looked for our signatures as the users, it had to reach elsewhere because we were already right there?"

"Right," Gilbert said with a sharp nod. "The other Draco had enabled a minimum threshold for the distance." He fell silent for a long moment before adding, "I have _no_ clue how the device reached into an entirely different timeline. I didn't even know that was real."

They were so close.

"Is there anything in there to suggest how our particular timeline was targeted?" Draco asked, feeling very much as if he were grasping for something that he would never be able to find. If these timelines truly were infinite and the device's reach random, even if they could get the device to activate in the same way, they might only jump into another. Most likely they would never get back home.

Gilbert let out a breath. "No."

Draco caught Hermione's eye, feeling the lingering shreds of hope seep from him like water through his fingers. With a grimace, he dragged her hand into his.

If nothing else, at least they were stuck here together.

Despite her effort at a smile, he thought he might make a rather lousy consolation prize.

* * *

As the day crept steadily towards night, a bitter cold sank into Draco's stomach at the thought that after everything, they still might not be able to find a way home.

There had to be something they were missing, but he was so exhausted from the strain of it all he couldn't think of anything else.

Weasley and Sirius had returned back to the Order headquarters to report in after the meeting, but Potter had opted to linger at the Collective's base for dinner. He joined their table with a heaping plate of food, slipping onto the bench beside Theo.

Theo rolled his face towards Potter, with a wry, "Hello."

"Nott." Potter's lips twitched, his stare lingering on Theo for a moment, before he cleared his throat. "Malfoy. Hermione. I think it's been a productive day, all things considered."

"I think so too," Hermione offered, her eyes flicking towards Draco's with humour in her stare. "It might not have been your original intent, but between the Order and the Collective you have a lot of joint knowledge and experience. Together you might finally be able to put an end to this war."

The Potter in this timeline was rougher around the edges than the one Draco remembered from home—although he supposed it was to be expected, given this Potter had lived a wartorn existence well into adulthood—but a smile tugged at his lips. The man looked in better spirits than Draco had seen since they'd stumbled onto the front step of headquarters weeks ago.

"I think you might be right," Potter admitted. "We also, rather unexpectedly, have a defected Death Eater in our midst. And that's got to count for something too."

Theo's eyes snapped open wide, his fork frozen halfway towards his mouth. He set the fork down. "Me?"

" _You_." Potter shot Theo a look as he nudged him in the shoulder. He chuckled. "Or are you not defected?"

"'Course I am," Theo said quickly, casting a bit of an uncertain glance around the table, "but I didn't really know where any of this left me."

Expression faltering, Potter dropped his head to the side. "I was under the impression you wanted to join the Order."

The softness in his voice made Draco want to avert his eyes, wondering what—if anything—had transpired between the two. Hermione's foot nudged his beneath the table, and Draco caught her with her lips pressed tightly together as if to refrain from saying anything.

Merlin knew the Theo from this timeline could stand to catch a break.

"I do," Theo said. "I'll tell you anything you want to know about the Death Eaters—if you'll have me."

Draco thought the sentiment sounded loaded, but a bigger part of him was glad to know that the Order would take Theo in despite his past as a Death Eater. Especially having heard Theo's hesitancy firsthand earlier in the day. If they _did_ manage to figure out a way home, at least Draco would know his friend wouldn't be left alone.

"I know you haven't been on our side very long," Potter went on, clearing his throat, "but I think you've more than proven yourself with us already. Protecting the Collective yesterday—and helping keep these two alive on multiple occasions." He nodded towards Draco and Hermione.

Finally a slow grin spread across Theo's face. "Thanks, Potter. I'd be honoured to help you kick Riddle's slimy arse into the next world."

"Literally, as we've learned," Draco quipped.

The four of them shared a laugh, and Draco's smile lingered for a moment before dropping off. Before he could dwell on anything else that had happened that day, Hermione stifled a wide yawn, her eyelids fluttering.

The sky was already falling dark around them and Draco collected their empty dishes into a stack.

He felt fatigued himself and could only imagine Hermione was worn out too after the events of the past days.

"Should we call it a night soon?" he asked, holding her stare.

With an apologetic smile towards Potter and Theo, she rose to her feet. "Probably a good idea to get some rest. We'll have more to look into tomorrow with these devices."

Draco had to respect her optimism, even if he felt uncertain of the outcome. But maybe he could borrow some of her faith—maybe they _would_ figure this out yet.

"Good night," he said, tugging Hermione closer into his side as they walked from the atrium back towards their tent.

Hermione's lips curled with a smile when she glanced back over her shoulder. "Something tells me those two will be happy to have some time alone."

"I think," Draco said, cracking a grin, "you might be right."

Her face softened. "And we're going to figure this out. I'm certain of it."

"I'm sure you're right about that as well." Draco planted a kiss to her lips as they ducked into the tent, sleep tugging at his eyelids as soon as his head hit the pillow.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written by floorcoaster

**Chapter written by floorcoaster.**

* * *

When Draco woke up the next morning, Hermione was still asleep, tucked against him with her back to his side. He wanted to stay there, to rest with her beside him for a little while longer. He knew they were beginning to turn their thoughts towards getting home. And even though he wanted to return, even though he didn't want to go through another war, didn't want Hermione to go through another war, there was a part of him that loved the simplicity of their situation. It was her and him, and they had no one else, no other responsibilities except to each other. He was definitely going to miss that.

Life at home was complicated, so much more complicated than here, and he desperately wanted them to work. But, of course, he didn't know if that was possible, so there was a small part of him that wanted to stay right where they were just a little longer.

She stirred and turned over, and he had to kiss her because he couldn't _not._ After a decent snog they stopped because he wasn't going to go any further in a tent surrounded by a whole bunch of people. He remembered well the talk about thin walls when they'd been in Naylen's camp.

"Hi." She smiled shyly, a delightful flush to her cheeks.

"Good morning."

"I, um, suppose we ought to get up then?"

He sighed. "Yes. We need to get back to the Order and see what we can do about the devices."

Hermione nodded but didn't immediately move to get up, so he couldn't get up either. They lay in the still, quiet morning, listening to the birds. After a few minutes, they heard the sounds of breakfast being prepared, and Draco's stomach growled.

She laughed and flung her legs over the side of the cot, pulling on her trousers. Draco followed, tugging on his own clothes, before they left the tent. Halfway to the breakfast area, he realized they'd just spent their last night in that tent. Though, he remembered Hermione had passed a few months in a tent with Potter and Weasley, and he felt an urgency to get her home that helped propel him forward.

He frowned. She must have been watching him because she took his hand, and he greatly appreciated the tangible connection more than ever. Now that one of their primary missions had been completed and they were turning towards home, he felt even more out of control than before. He felt a little lost and unsteady now that there was no immediate task before him. But having her there was everything.

When they reached the eating area, they saw Naylen, who waved them over.

"Morning!" he said brightly, shouldering a pack. "I'm ready to go."

Hermione and Draco exchanged a look. "Go? Where are we going? Have you seen Potter?"

Naylen looked surprised. "Oh, he went back last night with Theo."

"Why?" Hermione asked.

"They got to talking and realized that Theo's information was time sensitive. As soon as the Death Eaters realise he's defected, his information won't be as valuable. They'd do everything they could to cover their tracks. Though, from the sound of it, he had pretty extensive knowledge, so it would take some time to address everything he knew. From my understanding they want to get everything out of him they can and act on it as soon as possible."

Hermione nodded. "That makes sense."

"I suppose we should get going then." Draco gave her hand a quick squeeze.

"I'm going with you." Naylen stuck his arm through the other strap of the backpack. "Harry thought it would be a good idea, since he's been here and seen what we have, for me to go and see what you have at your headquarters. We're going to be working together, after all. I'm taking a couple of people with me."

"Oh! Well, did Harry happen to mention how that would work?" Hermione worried her lip. "We can only transport two other people with us."

Naylen's eyes went wide and he pulled an old shoe out of the backpack. "Ah! Yes, he gave me this. He said it's some kind of a port?"

Hermione laughed. "A Portkey! When is it supposed to activate?"

Naylen shook his head. "All Harry said was that once everyone who's going touches the thing, it will transport us. So whenever we're ready, we can go."

Draco watched with amusement as Hermione's eyes flashed with interest, but his own attention was drawn to the food. The smell of freshly cooked bacon had wafted toward them, and his mouth was watering. "Maybe we can eat quickly and then go."

"Sure. I'll round up the doctor and whoever else Naylen is bringing and meet you near your tent. Probably best if we disappear away from most of the group; they're still a little anxious around magic."

Draco led Hermione through the line, where they both took a plate of bacon and a piece of fruit, then trudged back to their tent, eating quickly. Everyone was waiting.

"Ready?" Naylen seemed strangely excited as he held out the shoe. "As much as I have hated magic my whole life, seeing what you lot do has made me much more curious and far less fearful."

Hermione beamed at him. "That's wonderful! All right, everyone grab the shoe." She held her hand back. "This is going to be an entirely new sensation, and there's really no way to prepare you for it. Just remember it will end. Keep your knees soft because when we land, there will be a little bit of a jolt. Once it activates, we won't be able to let go, and you wouldn't want to anyway because who knows where you'd end up?" The three Muggles exchanged nervous glances but said nothing. They didn't seem afraid, merely unsure. "Ready?"

Everyone nodded, the doctor lastly, and Hermione reached for the shoe.

Draco instantly felt the Portkey pull him by the navel, and he was reminded of the journey two nights before. It was much nicer to travel when not under threat of spell fire from enemy witches and wizards. In seconds, the trip was done. Draco and Hermione landed smoothly, while the Muggles staggered a bit as their feet hit solid ground.

They'd landed in the back garden of the Headquarters, and Draco briefly wondered how the Fidelius Charm worked with Muggles. Then the back door opened, and Remus came out to welcome Naylen and his fellow members. Lupin's warm smile was tired as he motioned for them all to come into the house. "Welcome to the Order of the Phoenix."

Draco watched the Muggles' faces go from confused to frightened as they watched the building pop out of nowhere. They exchanged looks with each other.

Remus smiled warmly. "I assure you, it's quite solid." He motioned for everyone to follow.

Hermione gave Naylen a reassuring pat on the back. "It's all right. Promise."

He swallowed hard and gave her a nod, though Draco thought he looked as though he might be ill.

Remus waited just inside the door and shook hands with Naylen. "I'm Remus Lupin, one of the captains of our little band. I'll be taking you to the living room where you'll be meeting with our leader in a few minutes." He turned to Draco and Hermione. "Harry asked that I take you to him when you arrived."

After Remus deposited the Muggles, Draco and Hermione followed him into the lower levels of Headquarters to one of the many nondescript doors off the hallway on sublevel two. The aesthetics on this level were different than those on the hospital level, but Draco still felt a rush of memory as he walked the hall.

Remus knocked before opening a door and motioned for them to go in. This room was more like a sitting room, with plush armchairs and soft carpet and warm wood paneling. In the room they expected to find Harry and Theo, but were also surprised with Sirius, Lily, and Molly and Arthur Weasley.

Harry looked up at them when they walked in and gave Hermione a tired grin. Molly jumped up and started fussing over Hermione and Draco.

"Oh, I'm so glad you're back. My least favorite part of all of this is whenever someone is away on a long mission."

Sirius leaned back in his chair, extending his legs in front of him briefly, then standing to stretch his arms. "We're finished here, so we'll leave you to it." He clapped a hand on Harry's shoulder and gave Theo a nod.

Lily beamed at Harry, then followed everyone else from the room.

When it was just the four of them, Theo let out a long breath and slumped in his chair. "That was exhausting."

"Surely you haven't been at it all night."

"Unfortunately, yes." Harry stood and stretched, yawning as he did so. "I'm exhausted, and I'm sure Nott, here, must be as well. But he had a lot of information, and there were various groups within the Order who needed to hear certain parts of it…" He chuckled and dragged a hand through his messy hair. "It was a _very_ long night."

"Why did you want to see us?" Draco asked, amused by how Theo's eyes were drooping.

"Right, yeah." Harry crossed the room and held out his hand.

Draco stared at it for a moment, then hesitantly shook Harry's hand. It felt so strange, considering the offer of 'friendship' he'd once made to Potter their first year of school which had been rebuffed.

"Thank you for everything. We can't possibly hope to repay you for what you've done for us and given to us, but for now you're free to work on the devices. We know you need to do something about them in order to get yourselves home, and if there's anything any of us can do to help, please let us know." He yawned again. "I've got to sleep. Nott, come on, I'll show you to a room. And Hermione, I'll show you two where our Draco did his work. You've been there, I think, but just in case you don't remember where it is."

Hermione smiled. "Thank you, Harry. I don't think I could find it again. And we'll let you know if—or, more likely, when—we need your help." She took Draco's hand and together they followed Harry.

He led them down the hall, down another set of stairs, then finally stopped before a green door. Draco and Hermione exchanged a look. Draco rolled his eyes.

Once inside the room, Harry pointed to a table. "Both the devices are there, the one made by our Draco and the one from Naylen. Again, let us know if you need anything."

Draco thought for a moment. "We might need you, Theo. You're good at programming, and we know nothing about it. But we'll have a look first and let you know."

Harry nodded, trying and failing to stifle another yawn. "Right then. Just don't need anything from me for at least four hours."

Hermione laughed. "We'll do our best."

"Let's go, Nott." Harry passed Theo, who'd leaned against the wall by the door and closed his eyes, and nudged him lightly.

"Coming. I'd do absolutely anything to be allowed to go to sleep right now."

Draco and Hermione listened to Harry and Theo walk away until their voices faded. Finally, they were alone, and he let out his breath, feeling like he could fully relax now. He looked around the room, his eyes drifting over a large work table, a smaller table, a desk, bookshelves, and a bank of computers, plus a few cabinets. Nothing immediately jumped out at him, and his gaze finally landed on Hermione.

"Well I guess we'd better get busy."

She nodded. "I'm going to start with those bookshelves over there."

Draco chuckled. "Of course you're going to start with the books."

"Of course." She grinned.

The storage cabinets were housed beside the bookshelf, so Draco went over to them and started pulling open doors and drawers. He found an odd assortment of things he didn't understand, but rather than dismiss things just because they were unfamiliar, he decided it would be best to bring everything out. With his wand, he Conjured more tables and started to pull out everything that he found. He came across the notes and plans they'd been shown when they first arrived and set them on the table with everything else.

After half an hour, when he was working to organize all of the contents of the drawers and cabinets, Hermione let out an excited cry.

"I think I found something!"

He looked over to see her arm completely hidden, but by what, he couldn't clearly see. Her lips were pressed tightly as though she were reaching for something. Finally, her expression turned triumphant.

"Got it!"

Draco leaned back against the table to watch as she pulled out what looked like a journal.

Upon further examination, she was reaching behind a row of books, and the bookshelf she'd been going through appeared to have a hidden compartment. He thought it was strange that the journal had been hidden—and it was clearly intended not to be found by anyone—simply by physically hiding it rather than by some magical means.

Hermione brought the journal out and set it on the nearest table, her expression eager. Draco joined her so he could look at it as well. Hermione opened the journal and Draco immediately recognized his own handwriting, though a cursory glance showed that it was slightly different. Hermione sucked in a breath. "This belongs to other Draco."

Draco smirked. "You mean Fake-O?"

She chuckled. "Exactly." Her eyes were fixed on the journal, and she slowly flipped through the pages.

Draco Conjured two chairs and they sat side by side, giving the journal a quick skim to begin. He noticed there were many pages of the journal that had nothing to do with the device, but towards the middle they started to see sketches of various parts of it, and finally, about three quarters of the way through, they found a sketch of the full device. The sketches all looked slightly different than the plans they'd found before.

Hermione and Draco exchanged an excited glance.

"Why don't I read through this while you keep pulling things out of that cabinet?" Hermione pointed to something sitting on the table. "I'm pretty certain I saw a drawing of that, so who knows, it might be important."

Draco nodded even though he really wanted to be the one to read through the journal. After all, it felt like his—even though he knew it wasn't.

Hermione kept up a running dialogue of what she was reading, though, so he found that it was all right. Twenty minutes later they had gone through an extensive description of the device, how they thought it would work, and what it was supposed to do. Unfortunately, there was no mention of interdimensional transport.

Hermione sighed. "Well, maybe it was an accident and we'll never figure out how to get home."

Draco looked at her sharply, took in the slump of her shoulders, and felt a surge of anger. "No." His tone was clipped, and he pulled the book away from her. "This can't be the end." He returned to his chair and went back to the beginning of the journal, this time reading through everything, even the things that seemed to have nothing to do with the device. About a quarter of the way through, he found a mention of a potion, next to which his alter ego had written 'signature mask?' Feeling in his gut that he had found something of import, he stuck a blank sheet of paper into that page and kept reading.

Near the end of the journal, he found a drawing that included the device but also contained three poles on tripods set up to make a perimeter. The device was connected to one of the poles, and inside the poles was a ball. However, the drawing had no labels and no context, and even though he felt that he found something important, he didn't know what it was. He slammed the journal shut in frustration.

"Are you hungry?" Hermione asked. "I think some food might do us good."

Draco grudgingly acknowledged that she was probably right, and together they made their way up to the kitchen. There was no one there except Molly, who quickly made them some sandwiches, which they took down to the basement again so they could eat while they worked.

"Harry and Theo looked awfully tired." Hermione gave Draco a sideways look. "Did you happen to notice…" She trailed off, her cheeks pinking slightly.

"I don't know what you're talking about." He gave her a significant look which said he knew exactly what she was talking about.

Hermione bit her lip. "I wonder… I mean, my Harry is with Ginny, but…" She trailed off again, chewing thoughtfully but not saying anything more.

Draco remembered his friend had once—and only once—mentioned that Potter seemed awfully fit during a Quidditch game, but he'd never noticed Theo pay much attention to him otherwise. He'd have to ask him about it, if he ever got home.

Draco continued to flip through the journal while he ate, going over it again to see if he missed anything. When he got to the end of the journal on his third review, he happened to notice what looked like a little wedge of paper sticking out from behind what he thought was the book binding. Curious, he gave it a little tug, and it must have been magically concealed only for his—or other Draco's—eyes because when he pulled the little corner, an entire sheet of parchment came out.

"Hermione, look at this," he called and unfolded the piece of parchment.

She was by his side in an instant, looking over his shoulder. "What is it?"

"It looks like a drawing. Like he took a page out of the journal. But then he hid it, using magic this time." On the sheet of parchment was a clear drawing of the device, the three pillars or poles that he had seen earlier, plus a drawing and description of a potion remembered from earlier in the journal. Also on this drawing were detailed descriptions of everything, and as he read he let his excitement build. "Listen to this, Hermione. He wrote, 'The only way to defeat a magical signature detection device is to mask our magical signatures. This potion is the work of many months and needs only to be tested to ensure its efficacy.'"

They exchanged an excited look, then turned to read more. As they read over the ingredients of the potion, Hermione's eyes grew wider and wider.

"Do you realize what this means?" she asked.

He nodded. "It means they not only knew about the device Naylen was working on, at least in theory, but they were also trying to work against it, to find a way to mask their magical signatures so that Naylen's device, and others like it, wouldn't detect them. And it seems he was close, so close that they felt ready to test it. I'll bet anything that when they were testing it they were accidentally sent to our universe."

Hermione nodded eagerly. "Yes! I think that's exactly it, and somehow, instead of masking the magical signatures, they connected to ours and swapped us. I don't know how or why, but I'm not sure that we _need_ to know how or why. All we need to do is test _our_ theory and then duplicate it if it's a success. Then we can go home."

"So it wasn't a programming error after all, as Gilbert had theorized?"

Hermione shook her head. "I think, with his Muggle-based worldview, he couldn't even conceive how magic might play into it. But I believe we'd have to consume this potion for the device to trigger the cross-universe jump. They were testing the potion to see if the device, designed to detect magical signatures, would find them. But something went wrong, and the device found magical signatures of us, only they were in a different universe. It pulled them here, and since the second law of thermodynamics states that matter cannot be created or destroyed, it had to send something back to _our_ universe of equal mass. Our counterparts were both right there, in close proximity, and had drunk the potion which started everything, and so it made the most sense!"

Draco gave her a wary glance. "That… sounds incredible. And highly improbable."

She laughed. "But that's magic! It's all highly improbable, magic breaks laws of science all the time—at least, the laws as far as Muggles understand them. Theoretical magiphysics is a fascinating branch of magical research where witches and wizards try to reconcile Muggle scientific theories with magic. Being Muggle-born, as most of those researchers are, I'm drawn to it and read their work from time to time."

He chuckled. "Of course you do. There's a problem, though. I don't really fancy testing an unknown potion and then zapping myself with a device to see if it transports me back to my home dimension."

Hermione frowned slightly, biting her lip. "No, I don't fancy that either. However, I think we can work something else out. What are these poles in the drawing?"

Draco flipped back in the journal to the page where he had seen them and showed her the drawing of the poles connected to the device. When he read it now, it made more sense. "It looks like the device powers the poles and limits the range of the device to a certain area."

Hermione looked closely. "Did anyone see or recover any poles from the rubble of my flat building?"

Draco shrugged. "I have no idea."

"All right, that's a question for Harry. Why don't I go ask him to come down here for a moment?"

He shook his head. "Let's wait just a few minutes, see if we can't think this through really carefully before we bring anybody else in. We're going to need to have answers to any questions they might ask."

They spent the rest of the day going back and forth with ideas and theories, researching each potion ingredient and trying to determine just exactly _how_ the potion, combined with the device, would send them to another universe. In the end, the best they could hope for was to test it.

"But how would we know it would go to _our_ universe?" Draco asked. "Why not send it to another one? You've mentioned that there are a lot of universes, if I remember correctly."

Hermione smiled, and he could see the glint of excitement in her eyes. "Because in the theory of multiple universes, some are closer than others. In this universe where we are now, many things are the same, though many things seem different. The general evolution and progression of world history seems very much in line with where we are from. In other universes, things would be drastically different. For example, there might not be magic at all."

"No magic? At all?" He couldn't hide his surprise. "How? _Why?"_

She shrugged. "Whatever evolution or progression that led to magic in our world might never have happened somewhere else. Or, for something possibly more relatable, Dumbledore didn't defeat Grindelwald in 1945. That's a recent example, but you can imagine the difference it would have had. If Dumbledore had died and Grindelwald succeeded, Riddle might have joined up with him. I mean, it's possible they met, anyway, but—"

"I see your point." He frowned. "So you're telling me there's a universe out there with that scenario?"

"Possibly. There are an infinite number of universes. There are many in which we don't even exist, for all sorts of reasons."

He shook his head. "You work in the Department of Mysteries for a reason. If they don't understand how incredible you are after this..."

She gave him a brilliant, breathtaking smile. "Anyway, I believe the device will send us to the closest universe to this one, which happens to be ours—it's why we came here in the first place."

He crossed his arms over his chest. "If there are universes 'close' to each other, then why not send us to the next one over?"

Hermione looked thoughtful. "Well, I think because we've already exchanged with this universe, chances are it would happen again. Plus, our magical signatures are drawing us back home, just like theirs must be wanting to be back here. We don't really belong here, and the universe knows it. Mainly, though, I think it's because our universes are so closely connected, so close to each other in the time space continuum."

Draco looked at her and just shook his head. "You're so unbelievably smart. It's very… distracting." He had a few more things he wanted to say, like just how distracted he was, but he wasn't sure they were quite there in their quasi-relationship yet.

She blushed. "You're not so bad yourself," she said saucily.

He grinned. "We'd better get busy or we're not going to get anything done."

Hermione sighed and nodded in agreement. "I think the first task is to find out if there are any poles in the rubble of my building. Then you and I need to sort out how we're going to test this."

Draco went back to the page in the journal on the poles. "It says here how to build these. If we don't find them there, we can probably make our own." He pushed the journal toward her to read. "I saw…" Comprehension dawned in a burst. "Wait!" He jumped up and went to the table where he'd been organizing everything from the cabinets. "Look, these look a bit like the poles in the drawing." He held out three poles, on tripods, about eight inches high. One of them had a cord sticking out from it.

"They do, only they're rather small." She held out her hands. "But… hang on." She set the poles on a small patch of clear space on the table. Draco hurried to move some things to give them more room to work. Then Hermione took their device and found where the loose cord might connect to it. When she plugged it in, nothing happened, and her face fell.

"Did you expect it to work the first time?" Draco asked with a chuckle.

She huffed. "Honestly? Yes. Oh, wait." Hermione flicked a switch on the device and it hummed to life. With the device turned on, when she connected it to the cord, a light on each of the three poles, which were apparently also connected, began to glow. "This is fantastic!" Hermione clapped her hands. "Let me see the loose sheet again?"

Draco handed it to her and watched with amusement as her eyes continued to light up.

Then she tapped the page with her finger. "Okay. Here. See?" She waved him over and set the page on the table. "This drawing shows nothing in the middle of this field, unlike the previous drawing with the ball. Obviously, a ball couldn't consume a potion, so maybe they put some of their magical essence into the ball as a way of testing it before they tried it on themselves."

"If they'd done that, though, wouldn't the ball have simply disappeared?" Draco frowned as he peered at the drawing. "Assuming our theory is correct, of course."

Hermione bent over the parchment again. "Good point. Only... What did it say about the drawing with the ball?"

Draco went back to the page with the poles and the ball, then read a few pages before that. "It says that they used the ball to test that the device would detect a magical signature. Not to test the potion. They did everything on a small scale first, which is why we have these small poles."

"Fantastic! So the device was able to detect magical signatures, but when they needed to test the potion—"

"They needed people. So… we can only send living things?"

"I'm not sure. Before we test this, I'd really like to send a note to Harry..." She trailed off, deep in thought as she examined the poles. After a moment, she threw her hands up in the air. "I don't know!"

At that moment, a knock sounded, and both Draco and Hermione automatically turned to the door, which opened to reveal Harry.

"Hope I'm not interrupting." He glanced around the room with an amused expression, then pointed to the table covered with the contents of the cabinets. "What is all this?"

"Parts and models and all manner of things I don't recognize." Draco shrugged. "I suspect only a small percentage of it will be useful."

"I'm glad you're here, though, Harry." Hermione motioned him over to the table where they'd set up the small version of the device and poles, pointing to one of the latter. "Did anyone retrieve anything like these from the rubble of my flat building?"

Harry frowned and peered closer. "I don't think so. Why?"

"We think they're important." She glanced at Draco. "Would it be possible to send someone back to look?"

"Absolutely, if you think it's necessary." Harry reached out to touch one, then seemed to think better of it. "May I?" Hermione handed him one of the poles not attached to the device. Harry turned it over a few times, a look of concentration on his face. "I'll go myself. Ron and I haven't been out in the field together in a while, and it would be nice."

"Thanks, Harry!" Hermione gave him a relieved smile. "We're really close to something, it's on the tip of my tongue, but it's eluding me. One of my coworkers would know, if only I could owl her, I'd…" She trailed off and her expression lightened. "That's it! Thank you, Harry! Oh, does the Order use owls for mail?"

"Occasionally, though the Muggles know about owls and they shoot down any they see with notes or packages. It hasn't really been safe to use them, but they're fairly reliable, so sometimes we'll risk it at night if there's a timely message that needs to be sent."

Hermione nodded. "Great. I'll need an owl to send a letter. Thanks again, Harry."

Harry glanced at Draco, who shrugged. He had no clue what she was talking about, as Harry had interrupted before she'd been able to share her thoughts.

"Right, then. I'll head over to your building and have someone bring you an owl. See you soon." With that, Harry left.

Draco chuckled because Hermione barely noticed, so focused was she on what she was doing—which, at that moment, was rereading the information on the potion.

"It says here they made enough for three trials, but surely they only used one set." She rushed back to the compartment where she'd found the journal, stuck her arm in again, and started feeling around. "Aha!" With a triumphant grin, she brandished six bottles of what, Draco assumed, had to be the experimental potion.

She uncorked one and took a sniff. "This must be it; it smells strongly of anise, which is an ingredient listed in the journal."

"But Hermione, surely you won't be so foolhardy as to drink the potion without being completely certain… Right?" Her mischievous expression made his heart start to pound, and not in a good way. "Right?"

Hermione was already rifling through the things on the counter. "We need to test one of these vials to be sure it's the right stuff." In minutes, she'd set up a makeshift Potions lab and was hurrying through a basic battery of spells to determine the ingredients of the potion. He tried to busy himself with reading through the relevant journal entries but found it hard to concentrate.

"I'm nearly certain it's the same thing. How could it not be?"

"Are you going to tell me what the owl is for?" He crossed his arms with a playful smirk.

She practically bounced she was so excited. "We're going to send a letter to Harry at home with an owl! Of course, we need to test it on something much smaller first—I was thinking an ant. We can set up outside, in the back garden. But if it works—oh, Draco, if it works!" She squealed and gave him an impulsive kiss on the cheek, then began shoveling things into a box she Conjured—the poles, device, the potion, the journal.

"Wait… what? You want to send an owl to them? Not figuratively, but an actual owl?"

Hermione nodded and started speaking rapidly. "Our theory is that only living things can transport between universes, as the potion must be ingested. We're not going to test it on us, obviously, because there's no guarantee that our other versions will come back. We need to send something and then retrieve it. Then try something bigger—the owl. Only we'll include a letter to Harry with the owl, which should arrive right here in Grimmauld Place—or there, I mean. We'll wait an hour, so Harry can reply, and we can set up a transfer. If our other selves are in roughly the same place in that version of Harry's house as we are here, I think we're virtually guaranteed to swap!" She grinned, then sighed. "Assuming we can get the ant to drink some potion. Come on, help me out."

"We weren't together when we traveled here originally." He remembered waking up in a half-destroyed Malfoy Manor.

"That's true. But I don't want to risk it, do you? They'll probably be together anyway, and things are much less likely to go awry if they're in the same place we are."

He shook his head with a chuckle. "Whatever you say, Hermione."

Over the next hour, as they waited for Harry and Ron to return, they tested the device on a few ants. They set up the poles and device on some pavement in the back, then Hermione sprinkled the potion. When an ant crept up to the drop and took a drink, she activated the device. There was a small flash and the ant was gone, replaced by another ant—at least, they thought it was a different ant. It was impossible to tell. So the next time, once an ant had drunk some potion, Hermione Charmed the ant blue.

She gasped and clapped when the blue ant disappeared, replaced by a regular black one. Then she quickly activated the device again, and the blue one reappeared.

"Do you know what this means?" She cast some spells on the blue ant, checking to make sure that it was fully intact and had nothing wrong with it. "We're ready to try the owl!"

Draco hesitated. "Don't you want to try something a little bigger first, perhaps? Say, a mouse?"

Hermione shook her head. "We already know it's capable of sending people through because we're here."

"But… and I hate to mention this, but I've had a little bit of experience tinkering with a magical object that transports things from one place to another."

She stilled in her admittedly adorable excitement over their success with the ants and looked at him, her expression full of emotion.

He continued when she said nothing. "I sent a number of things through that cabinet, but they didn't always make it in one piece. How can you be sure that the Draco and Hermione from here made it _there_?"

Hermione glanced down at the blue ant. "Her. She's here. In one, amazing piece."

Draco watched the blue ant crawl around as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened to it, pausing to drink more potion whenever it encountered a drop. "Do it again. With the blue ant."

She nodded and activated the device. Again, the blue ant was exchanged for a black one. Hermione decided to turn that one red, and soon they were both swapped once more. She did it a few more times, and each time both the blue and red swapped back and forth, until finally he said she could stop.

"All right, then. Owls now?"

Hermione nodded once. "Owls. With a letter. It's also time to let the Order know what we're doing."

As they packed up once again, something occurred to Draco. "You know, it's highly probable that we're going to get Fake-O in trouble. Once the Order knows he's been working on this potion—"

"That's to help them, though!"

"—and testing it on himself, they might not be too happy with him."

"What's to say he didn't try it on ants first, too?" Hermione hefted the box and thrust it into his arms with a grin.

"There are no notes about any tests. I've read that journal cover to cover more than once." Draco followed her back inside the townhouse, down the hall, and into the main room the Order used for meetings. "Besides, he wouldn't have tested it on ants! They were trying to see if the potion would mask their magical signatures. They had no idea it would transport them out of their universe."

Hermione paused in her unpacking. "That's true. Very good point." She looked at him with a sly expression. "You're not just a handsome face, are you?" She resumed setting up the device, placing it and the poles on one end of the long table.

He chuckled. "You think I'm handsome?"

She ignored him but he saw her cheeks flush prettily. "Let's call the Order."

Twenty minutes later, everyone who was familiar with what was going on had filed into the room, including, to Draco's surprise, Naylen. He seemed slightly more at ease but still kept to the back of the room, near the door with all the magical people in front of him. He gave them a small wave.

Hermione did the work of bringing everyone up to speed, and when she was nearly done, Harry and Ron came in, three large poles in their hands—though only two were whole. "Third one was destroyed when the building collapsed," Harry said apologetically as he sat down.

"The next step is to send an owl to the other universe. Draco and I will draft a letter to the Harry Potter from our world. This is his house, now that—" She faltered, her expression turning to horror. Draco knew that she'd been about to mention the death of Sirius, who in this universe was sitting at the far end of the table with his arms crossed over his chest.

"What is it?" Lily prodded.

Hermione gave her a timid smile. "I'm sorry. Things… are quite different there. Grimmauld Place now belongs to Harry. I'm almost certain that he'll be there. Assuming that eight o'clock in the evening here is eight o'clock in the evening there, he'll be here. There." She blushed with embarrassment, and Draco tried to give her a reassuring smile. "We'll tell our Harry to gather your Draco and Hermione in his home at a certain time to ensure the success of the transfer. Then... You'll have your members back, and we can go home." She looked over at him as she finished, a bright gleam in her eyes.

 _Home_.

"Any questions?"

A few people raised their hands, and Hermione fielded them expertly. When the full plan was set, including a time and a specific owl to send, the meeting was adjourned. Harry hung back, a wry sort of grin on his face.

"I can't believe you've solved it."

Hermione shrugged. "Well, we're not home yet. But I think we're on our way."

Harry shook his head. "I should have known Hermione Granger would stop at nothing until she got her answers."

"As much as we've learned from our time here…" She looked at Draco and her expression softened. He felt like his heart might burst at the promise, the possibility, in that look. "We don't belong here." She turned back to Harry. "This isn't our fight."

Harry chuckled. "It's amazing what you've told us. It could very well turn the tide of this war."

"I truly hope so. Now, it's nearly dinner time, and Draco and I have a letter to compose. I suppose restaurants aren't exactly functioning right now, during this war?"

"Er, not exactly. You'd have to get well out of the city, and even then, you'd have to hope you didn't run across a band like Naylen's, intent on destroying all magical beings." Harry shrugged. "Molly makes a mean steak and kidney pie, though, and I think that's what's on the menu for tonight…"

"Sounds delicious. We'll be there."

Harry nodded to both of them and left.

When it was just them left, Draco let out a long breath. "That was… you're incredible, you know."

She blushed and busied herself with a stack of parchment and a quill she'd pulled from her beaded bag. "Running meetings is hardly exceptional. We should get started, yes? Then we can eat when they call us for dinner."

Draco sat in the chair beside hers, and together they worked out what they would say to the Harry Potter they knew.

_Harry—and probably you're there, too, Ron—_

_I'm all right! I suspect you got quite a surprise a couple of weeks ago, and you've been completely at a loss for what happened to bring you a very different version of me. It's my hope that she, the Hermione from where I am, found Draco Malfoy, and that nobody has come to blows over any sort of misunderstandings. Ron here tried to kiss me, which was very awkward, but he handled the truth rather well. Ron—can you imagine?_

_Anyway, Draco and I have had quite the adventure here, and we've finally sorted out how to get ourselves home. If you're reading this, then we managed to send this owl from where we are, and in one hour, we'll be retrieving him. Please be sure he's in this same room, the dining room at Grimmauld Place, at that time so that we can make the transfer. When matter from our side transfers to yours, something from your side must come here. At the time of this letter, we don't know what we'll get from your side, but we'll return it._

_Then, in twelve hours, if all goes according to plan, Draco and I will make the transfer ourselves. We need you to be sure that the Hermione and Draco who are in your world come to Grimmauld Place and are in the dining room there for the transfer._

"Hey, Hermione."

She paused in her writing and looked at him expectantly. "Yes?"

He frowned slightly, not sure if he should bother mentioning it, wondering if she'd laugh at him. But then he took a breath and plunged forward, deciding that she already liked him, and he didn't think this would change that. "I want to bring the sword back."

For a moment, her eyes danced with mirth, and he thought she was going to make fun of him, but then she gave a curt nod and returned to the letter. She started to write, but then paused. "We need to determine its mass." After casting a quick charm, she scribbled a number on a slip of parchment. "I'll add this to the letter."

_In addition to our counterparts, please have, in Draco's hand, something made of steel that weighs 2.7 pounds. I'll explain later._

Draco smiled at her, feeling heard for perhaps the first time in his life. She hadn't laughed or made fun of him for wanting to keep the sword; she'd simply done as he'd asked.

_I can't wait to see you, Harry, and tell you everything. And I am sure you have stories to tell me as well. Please keep this between you and Ron as much as you can._

_Hopefully, this transfer goes well. Please send back a letter with the owl we sent so that we know you got our message._

_Hermione  
_

When the time came to send the owl, Draco and Hermione were joined by Harry, Ron, and Theo. Draco couldn't help but notice the way Theo seemed to gravitate towards Harry. He didn't know if it was conscious on Theo's part or not, but he also noticed that Harry didn't shy away.

"Ready?" They'd cast a shield charm around the area to prevent the owl from flying away, then Hermione activated the device. It powered up for five seconds before reaching full strength, then she pressed a button. There was a bright flash of light, and the owl was gone. Nothing appeared in its place.

Draco looked at Hermione. "Did it work?"

Suddenly there was a shriek from somewhere else in the house, and they all ran to investigate.

In the kitchen, they discovered an owl flapping wildly around Molly's head while she tried to bat it away. "Thing burst out of nowhere!" she cried. "Started pecking at me as though it hasn't eaten in ages!"

Draco quickly reached for the bird, speaking softly to it until it calmed down. When the bird settled, he looked around to find everyone gaping at him. "What? I like birds."

"Well, we've got our confirmation." Hermione checked the owl's leg and found it had no note attached. "This isn't the bird we sent over."

"Let's feed her and then she should go back into the dining room." Molly pulled a bag of owl treats out of a cabinet. "Can't risk letting her go outside."

Draco took the bag and carried the owl, still perched on his arm, back to the meeting room.

"I'll bring you something to eat!" Hermione called after him.

The meal passed strangely. Harry asked Draco, Hermione, and Theo to fill Ron in on everything that had happened, and it was almost like being among friends. Every now and then, though, something would happen to remind everyone that he and Hermione didn't belong.

Before they knew it, the hour had almost passed. Theo cleared away their dishes while Hermione and Draco gave the owl the potion and put a shield around it. They'd written a brief note saying that it had been a successful transfer and that, if the next one was as well, they would make the final transfer the following morning at nine.

As before, there was a bright flash of light, the owl disappeared, and they waited. Ten seconds later, another owl popped into existence in the room with them. It was a minute or so before they could calm him, and while Draco held him, Hermione excitedly detached a letter from the owl's leg.

"They wrote back!"

Draco released the owl to a perch someone had brought in and went to her side. He noticed her hands trembled as she unfolded the slip of parchment.

After a quick scan, she read aloud.

_Hermione!_

_We can't believe it's you! The other you, the one here, and this Malfoy, have been trying to build whatever they had made on your side, but there's a potion ingredient we can't seem to identify over here. Malfoy here thinks it goes by a different name, but I'm pants at potions, and we haven't told very many people what's been going on. Anyway, they're thrilled at what you've done and can't wait to get home._

_Everything you requested, including 2.7 pounds of steel, will be ready tomorrow morning. Ron and I can't wait to see you, same with Ginny, Luna, George, Mr And Mrs Weasley, your boss—who this Hermione has had a time dealing with—and a whole bunch of people who don't even know you were gone. We can't wait to tell you everything. Thanks for giving us time to get everything together. Need to round up Hermione and Malfoy—they tend to wander off._

_Are you really coming home tomorrow? We will be ready. Can't wait to have you back._

_Harry  
_

Draco and Hermione looked at each other, and he felt an odd combination of things: thrilled it had worked and they'd be going home, apprehension about their future, and even some sadness over leaving everything they'd been thrown into and the people they had come to care about.

"We can always communicate with them." It was as if she could read his mind.

"But should we? This technology, this ability to jump between universes... I think it should be destroyed, honestly."

Her eyes went wide in surprise. "Really? But this... This is what I do, I push the limits of magic and science. I could take this to the DOM and—"

"And it could end up in the wrong hands, and then rather than trying to take over one world, Riddle would want them all." He shook his head. "You don't know him. You haven't seen him. We killed Bella's husband, so she'll dispense with any pretense and join him completely, and there's no telling what the two of them might accomplish."

"But—"

"Hermione." He stepped close, well into her space, and tilted her chin up so she would really look him in the eye. "Some things aren't meant to exist. Just because we can do this... Doesn't mean we should."

She bit her lip, and he could tell she was weighing it all: the endless possibilities, the chance to find cures to diseases, to help ease suffering. But then her expression clouded.

"I think you're right. I hate it, I don't want you to be, but you are." Her eyes flicked to his lips. "Dr Malcolm."

Draco blinked. He'd been expecting her to kiss him, not say another man's name. "Sorry, what?"

"Jurassic Park. He was one of my first literary fancies." She sighed.

He thought she'd kiss him now, but instead she laid her head against his chest and wound her arms around his middle. In some ways, it felt even more intimate than a kiss because rather than a brief snog, she wanted _him_. There was something she found in his arms that comforted her, and not just at night when their deepest fears had room to play. He pulled her closer, relishing the feel of her in his arms, the total surrender that came with placing his full trust in her, giving her access to his heart.

She let out a muffled sigh. "I've never wanted to kiss you more than at this moment."

Well.

He'd take that, too.

They spent the evening with their new friends who, despite being in the midst of a terrible war, tried to pretend none of that existed.

He, Hermione, and Theo had formed an unbreakable bond while working together to save Naylen's group, and they'd even bonded with Harry. Ron was so much like her friend that Hermione had no trouble falling into easy conversation with him, though Draco couldn't help but scowl at the looks Weasley gave her. He had to remind himself that _this_ Ron was with _that_ Hermione, and it was only natural that he'd be drawn to her as well.

Around midnight, Draco yawned. "Hermione, we should..."

She sighed. "Yes. We should get some sleep."

The three men all shifted awkwardly and nobody would meet their eyes. Draco wondered briefly what had happened but then realized they suspected he and Hermione would be up to business other than sleep. Then he smirked and took her hand. "Yeah, we have a lot to do in the morning. Don't want to be too exhausted." He winked at Hermione and Weasley grimaced.

Theo rolled his eyes. "Oh, just get a room already."

Hermione went red and turned around to look at Draco, swatting him in the stomach when she realized what had transpired. She pulled her hand from his and marched to the door. "Theo, Harry, Ron, goodnight. I'll see you in the morning."

She left without looking at him, but he suspected she was merely embarrassed. Draco decided to play it up, so he stood and straightened his shoulders, rocked his head side to side as though stretching, and gave them all a smug look. "Goodnight, gentlemen. The lady awaits."

Ron pulled a face and pretended to be sick. Theo merely nodded, as though it were perfectly natural; Harry wouldn't look at him.

Unfortunately for him, he'd waited too long, and Hermione poked her head back into the room with a scowl. "Malfoy! Come on! I've had an idea for something I want to do. We need the journal, fresh parchment, ink, and a quill." She flapped her hand at the pile that was left on the table. "Grab those things, will you?" Then she was gone.

Ron burst out laughing, his face going bright red. "Doesn't sound like your night is going to go quite the way you'd hoped!"

Draco grinned. He'd never really thought he'd be sleeping with Hermione tonight. Part of him couldn't even think about that yet. They weren't home, back in their normal lives, and he had no idea if the relationship would even work. Plus, there were her friends, his friends—his _parents_. He didn't want to complicate things before they'd even really begun.

"You never know, Weasley." He gathered up the things Hermione had requested and left the room.

She was waiting for him, her foot tapping impatiently, and she grabbed his arm. "Come on. Let's get to our room."

He smirked at what she'd said but wouldn't let his thoughts wander. He needed to stay focused and on task, and she clearly had plans that did not involve them being naked together. He groaned; thinking about _not_ doing it wasn't helping, either.

"What do you want to do, exactly? Why the parchment and quill?"

Hermione bit her lip as they neared the room they'd been given at Headquarters. Technically, they'd been given two, but the only night they'd spent at Grimmauld Place had been when she was in the hospital wing. They both entered his assigned room and Hermione shut the door behind her, locking it and casting an extra ward for privacy. "I think… I think we should write to our counterparts."

"Ah." He nodded, setting down the bundle and taking a seat on the bed. "What about?"

"I've been thinking a lot about what you said, about the technology. It was an accident, I'm certain. Fake-O wasn't looking for a way to cross between universes, but he found one, and it would be really dangerous in the wrong hands. Can you imagine Voldemort popping into our universe one day?" She shuddered. "I think you ought to write to him and explain everything. Tell him why we feel this technology should be destroyed. If he's anything like you, he'll agree. Hopefully he'll at least listen to you, at any rate."

Draco nodded. "I think that's a great plan. What are you going to write?"

She shrugged, avoiding his gaze, and picked up a quill and sheet of parchment.

"Hermione?" He retrieved his own set of supplies and Conjured a small table and chair. Rather than sit down right away, though, he crossed the room. Her back was to him, and she was about to sit down herself, but he put his hand on her waist. She stilled, and Draco stepped closer, placing a kiss at the back of her neck. She sighed and relaxed, tilting her head to give him better access. "What are you going to write?"

She spun around, eyes flashing. "Did you think kissing me like that would make me tell you?"

He chuckled. "I just wanted to kiss you."

"Well, if you must know…" She stepped out of his arms and sat down. "I'm going to tell the other Hermione that she should take some time for herself, figure out what she really wants. Based on everything I've heard about her, and about Fake-O, I think… I suspect…"

"They fancy each other?" he suggested, moving to his table and sitting down.

"It's possible. And considering what we've found here…" She glanced over her shoulder, giving him a tentative, warm smile. "I think she should be open-minded. That's all. I know how _I_ can be, and I was so stubborn about Ron, trying to force things to work out, that it took me much longer than it should have to realize that we didn't work. We're much better as friends." Hermione turned back to her parchment. "That's all. Of course I've no insight into _him._ "

"If they argue as much as we've been told, then yeah. He's definitely into her." Draco grinned to himself, imagining his Hermione in a righteous fury, magic crackling around her. Fake-O was probably completely in love with the other witch and wouldn't need much encouragement to act on it.

He turned his thoughts to his writing assignment and let the words flow.

The next morning was frantic. They'd woken late and hadn't been able to linger, much to his disappointment. They ate quickly and hid their letters where their counterparts would be sure to find them, charmed to be illegible to anyone except the intended recipient. Then came the business of saying their goodbyes.

Most of the Order members they'd interacted with came to wish them well. Draco hadn't been close with any of them in his timeline, but Hermione had a few long conversations with some—the longest was with Lily, to his surprise. When they concluded, both women had to dry their eyes, and they embraced for a long time.

The only people in the room with them as they left were Harry, Ron, and Theo. Together they prepared the room, setting the poles out in a larger area. When Draco stepped inside the perimeter, he felt a strange thrill. He was about to travel from one dimension to another. He'd been asleep for the last trip, and he was extremely curious what this would feel like. Was it like Floo travel or would it feel more like a Portkey?

Hermione had told Theo how to work the device, and when he turned it on, the poles lit up and the device hummed to life.

Hermione grabbed his hand, her grip far stronger than he'd been expecting. He turned and kissed her forehead, giving her hand a squeeze. "We've got this, Granger."

"I know. It's just… I've never done this before!" Her voice was barely a whisper.

"Yes, you have. We've both done this before, we just didn't know it was coming. And I'm here, I won't let go."

She nodded, forcing herself to take a deep breath.

"We're ready." Theo looked up at both of them. "Four minutes until nine."

Hermione released Draco's hand and flung her arms around Theo's neck. "Thank you for everything!" She hugged Harry and Ron in turn, her eyes watery.

Draco shook hands with Harry and Ron, then he and Theo awkwardly embraced, very quickly and with a good deal of throat-clearing and eye-avoidance. Then he and Hermione returned to the device, and she gripped his hand in hers like a vice once more. She turned to face him. "I'm so glad I went through this with you."

"It's nine." Theo nodded to them both and they downed a vial of the potion each before Theo pressed the button. As the device drew power to send them home, Theo stepped back to stand beside Harry. Just before a bright light obscured Draco's vision, he saw Harry reach for Theo's hand.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _In Dreams wrote the first part of this chapter; Floorcoaster wrote the second part (Three Weeks Later)._

For several long, drawn-out moments, Draco’s vision was obscured by a blinding flash of light. Bright spots hovered beneath his eyelids, and with every clamouring beat of his heart, he focused on the feel of Hermione’s hand in his. 

He gripped hers in return like a lifeline, breaths chasing from his lungs as adrenaline roared through him. 

At last, he opened his eyes, bolstered by the idea that, no matter what happened, at least they were still together. Her wide eyes met his own, stirring some semblance of relief within his chest. 

“We’re in one piece,” he drawled, a wry smirk pulling his lips. 

Hermione released a nervous titter. “That’s good news.” 

Drawing in a deep breath, Draco looked around, forcing himself to withdraw from the bubble of safety that Hermione’s touch afforded him. 

They were clearly still in the dining room of Grimmauld Place―the dreadful furnishings were remarkably similar―but the poles they’d set up to facilitate the swap were gone. 

Which meant that either they had ended up in an entirely different dimension again, or… 

His heart jumped. Or it had actually worked. 

Draco’s eyes landed on Potter and Weasley, hovering near the wall in silence, as if uncertain what had occurred. The sudden thrill of hope Draco had felt moments before trickled away. 

He cleared his throat. “Hello? Is this… the right dimension?” 

Potter snapped his jaw shut, scrambling forward as though Draco’s words had jarred him into action. “That depends on which dimension you’re referring to, but I suppose since you’re asking at all―” 

“Harry,” Hermione breathed, her eyes welling with moisture. 

“This  _ is _ the dimension you were after,” Potter finished quietly, a broad grin stretching across his face. “Welcome back, you two.” 

When Hermione moved forward to embrace Potter, then Weasley, Draco let her hand slip from his, feeling the loss of contact acutely. 

After everything they had gone through to get back, the moment felt anti-climactic. 

But all at once, the fear and the anxiety sloughed from Draco’s shoulders, and he released a breath that had been caught in his chest ever since they drank the potion and initiated the device. 

They were  _ home _ . 

“And the others?” Draco asked, unwilling to completely let himself relax until he knew everything went according to plan. 

“Gone,” Weasley said with a shrug. “We can only imagine everything went as planned. Two-point-seven pounds of steel and all.” His gaze flickered to the sword holstered to Draco’s back and he grimaced. “Is that a bloody sword?” 

“It is,” Draco said, defensiveness flaring within him on instinct. 

Potter gaped at him. “We scrounged up that exact quantity of steel so you could bring home a souvenir?” 

Hermione clapped a hand to her mouth to stifle a sudden burst of mirth, and her eyes met Draco’s, sparkling with the relief he felt overtake him. He chuckled, shaking his head, before offering a belated, “Yes, Potter. A souvenir.” 

“You wouldn’t believe what it was like there,” Hermione said, her face lighting up. “The entire city was ravaged by war between the Muggles and wizards and―” 

“The others told us about it,” Potter said, incredulous. “They were completely blown away by the fact that our war here has been over for years. They spent rather a lot of time in Diagon Alley together eating ice cream. We felt a little bad about sending them back there, to be honest.” 

A sour twist pulled at Weasley’s face; idly, Draco wondered what that said about the other Draco and Hermione.

“The good news on that front,” Draco began, sinking into a chair at the dining table as everyone else followed suit. He stifled a wide yawn, though it was still early in the day. It felt strange to have Potter and Weasley’s attention on him without it being negative. “The  _ other _ Potter runs the Order there, and he’s working with a group of Muggles that can track down and attack magic users. We filled them in on everything Hermione knew about the Horcruxes―so with some time and a bit of luck, they might be able to put an end to Riddle’s forces.” 

“That’s good,” Potter responded with a contemplative nod. “This whole experience has been bizarre from this side of it―I can’t even imagine what it’s like being sucked into a completely different dimension. And learning that other dimensions actually  _ exist _ .” 

Hermione’s hand slipped into Draco’s and he gave it a squeeze, even as he saw Potter and Weasley follow the movement. 

“It was terrifying, honestly,” she said quietly. A somber mood fell over the four of them. “I woke up to a bomb blasting my home apart, and London was…” Trailing off, she shook her head. “I was lucky to come across Draco at what used to be their Ministry. After narrowly escaping a group of Muggles, we found the other Harry and they were able to help us out in the end. But it took some time before we were able to focus on the device.” 

When her eyes found his again, Draco smirked and added, “If we hadn’t learned to trust one another I doubt we would have made it back.” 

Potter snickered, his lips twitching. “I think the other two learned to trust each other as well.” 

Hermione’s cheeks flushed at the implication as Draco barked a laugh; irritation flashed across Weasley’s face once more and Draco fought hard to school his expression. 

He failed to withhold another wide yawn, fatigue seeping in now that the immediacy of the situation had been dealt with. Hermione blinked doleful eyes at him, as if she felt the same way. 

“Everyone will be glad to see you again,” Potter said, and Draco felt as if the words were directed at Hermione, when Draco had exactly nothing to do with the Order in this dimension. 

He still clung to the idea that certain things would change in his life, and now that they were home, he could finally let himself hope. Even still, fear swept through him at the thought that whatever existed between himself and Hermione had been borne only from the extreme circumstances in which they’d found themselves. 

Draco never thought himself deserving of someone like Hermione. But having been through everything with her now, working together to pursue a cause, he’d begun to think that maybe theirs was a future he could hang his hat on. 

_ If _ she still felt the same way, of course, with the comforts of home surrounding them once more. 

When she stifled a yawn as well, Potter clapped his hands to his knees and rose to his feet. “I imagine you two are quite worn out from all that inter-dimensional travel. You’re free to stay here for a while, and help yourselves to anything you might need.” 

“Thanks Potter,” Draco said, as Hermione offered her friends a tight smile. 

Potter and Weasley vacated the room. Hermione watched them go, her hand lingering in his, before she blew out a long breath. 

“Are you exhausted?” she asked, yawning widely again. 

Draco nodded. “Adrenaline crash.” 

She peered around the room, the air between them growing a little awkward, but Draco didn’t want to be the one to bring up anything too heavy when they had only just arrived back. 

“I can’t believe we made it home,” she whispered, at last looking back at him. Her lips curved with a soft smile. “It feels like we were growing so accustomed to life over there, and now  _ this _ feels foreign. Too quiet; too peaceful.” 

She had managed to phrase his exact feelings on the situation. “Yeah,” he said, dragging his free hand along the back of his neck. “It’ll take some time I guess.” 

Her eyes flitted up to his, her face guarded. “At least we still have each other, right?” 

Draco huffed a heavy breath of relief, the tension in his shoulders sinking. He gave her hand another squeeze, and she interlaced their fingers. 

“Right.” He leaned in, pressing a brief kiss to her lips. The contact felt infinitely different now that they were on the other side of the ordeal, and his heart leapt with anticipation. “I could use a bloody nap.” 

“Agreed.” They shared a grin, and Draco rose, tugging her to her feet and into his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, breathing in her scent and basking in the quiet support that she’d come to offer him through just her presence. She kissed him again, twining her arms around his neck, before drawing back with a sparkle in her eyes. “Come on. I still have a room here.”

Draco certainly wasn’t of any mind to argue. 

* * *

Waking up with a frisson of alarm down his spine had become familiar, and it took several moments for Draco to remember that they were back in their own universe―and that Hermione was still in his hold of her own accord. 

He hadn’t slept well the night before, fearing the many things that might have gone wrong, and he finally felt refreshed as they rose once more. 

Potter and Weasley were in the kitchen, along with a few others who had stopped by, but the house was still lacking the hum of anxious activity Draco had come to expect. But in this universe, the Order of the Phoenix didn’t have cause to actively meet, and number twelve Grimmauld Place was simply Potter’s residence. 

For several hours, Draco and Hermione filled everyone in on more of the details of their time spent in the other timeline as they all picked on a spread of Kreacher’s hors d’oeuvres. Everyone had been incredulous to learn how many things were different. 

Draco had forced himself to glance away when Potter quietly asked Hermione about his parents and Sirius. 

By the time they left the house, Draco found himself ready to put the experience behind them. And while a part of him wanted to return to the Manor and seal himself away, a bigger part of him relished the idea of simply spending some time with Hermione, without some greater cause on the line. 

They wandered Diagon Alley, window shopping, sharing stories, and getting to know one another without everything else in the way. Draco couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so at peace. 

Furthermore, he couldn’t quite believe she wasn’t shying away from his presence in public. When his hand nudged hers, she took it wholly into her own, lacing their fingers together. Draco’s heart soared. 

At last, they settled with a scoop of ice cream at Fortescue’s, and Hermione’s lips twitched with a smile. 

“So, the other Draco and Hermione liked to sit here and enjoy ice cream too,” she said with a wistful sigh. “I wonder how they’re managing back in their wartorn life.” 

The thought had been niggling at the back of Draco’s mind all day, and he frowned. “We didn’t belong there, just like they didn’t belong here.” A sly grin crept across his face and he added, “And it sounds like they got to know one another better.” 

“Just like we did.” She returned the smile. “I wonder if there’s… I don’t know, some sort of predisposition to that sort of thing. That you and I ended up drawn to one another in  _ both _ timelines?” 

“Maybe,” Draco hummed. “Or maybe it was just a matter of being thrown into a parallel universe with one person, and being forced to work through everything that went along with it.” Swallowing a scoop of ice cream, he added, “We could always introduce Potter to Theo and see how that plays out.” 

She gaped at him before releasing a quiet titter. 

“Must have been why Ron looked so offended at the mention of it,” she said. “I thought the other Hermione was involved with the other Ron, in some capacity at least. He might be in for a nasty surprise.” 

Draco snickered. “Poor Weasley.” She fired him a half-hearted glare, then released a sigh and gazed around them. 

“It all feels so surreal, don’t you think? That I’ll go back to work tomorrow, attempt to undo any damage the other Hermione caused, and we’ll just carry on as if nothing happened.” 

“Not nothing.” Draco ducked his chin as he met her gaze. 

Following his intent, Hermione reached for his hand. “I can’t imagine having gone through all of that with anyone else.” Her eyes shone, face faltering as she offered a forced smile. “Thank you―for being by my side and for being so supportive through everything.” 

Her honesty wrenched him apart, leaving him raw under the intensity of her gaze. He swallowed back the sudden lump in his throat. “I’ll be right here as long as you want.” 

She gave his hand a tight squeeze, recognising the sentiment between them. 

They sat in contemplative silence for a long moment, her words stirring something in the back of Draco’s mind. He could feel his eyes linger on her and at last he turned to face her again. 

“I’ve been thinking a lot,” he said quietly, measuring his words carefully. “This experience opened my mind to a lot of things. And no matter what else has happened in my past, I’ve been fortunate to have the opportunities I have―and the life I get to live now.” He drummed his fingertips on the table top, nerves swelling in the pit of his stomach, but Hermione only waited, her smile encouraging. 

“I’ve never  _ needed _ to work,” he pressed on, “and I’ve done a bit of part-time work in the past but nothing long-term. But I think… I’ve enjoyed the idea of helping out and making a difference. Of doing something with an actual purpose.” 

“That’s great,” Hermione murmured, her eyes warm. 

Draco blew out a breath. “I think I want to enrol in Auror training.” 

“Draco!” She gaped at him, eyes wide. “That’s a wonderful idea―I’m certain you’ll make a fantastic Auror.” Her smile softened, voice dropping as she breathed, “I’m so proud of you.”

Then she leaned across the table, oblivious to the other patrons, and brushed her lips against his in a soft, chaste kiss that set his pulse racing. 

Idly, Draco wondered if this was the sort of energy one could harness to produce a Patronus, as his heart leapt at the sparkle in her eye.

He offered a hint of a smile. “Something to look into now that we’re back. Anyway―are you nearly set to go?”

“I don’t know that I’ll sleep so well on my own tonight,” she admitted, snagging her lower lip between her teeth. “I think I’m so used to having you there―if you’d like to come over. I’m afraid I don’t have a thin tent or an uncomfortable cot, though.” 

Draco’s grin widened and he muttered, “We’ll make do without the cot I imagine.” 

* * *

Hermione’s flat was exactly as he might have expected, even though he’d only seen the crumbled ruins of it before. Soft, worn furnishings sat around a cozy sitting room with a floor-to-ceiling collection of books, still more tomes piled in the corners. 

Aside from the overflow of books, however, the flat was tidy and organised. 

But Hermione froze in the entryway, her shoulders sinking as if taking it in. 

“I think other Hermione and Fake-O were here,” she mused, venturing into the sitting room. “I didn’t have these books out.” 

Draco toed off his boots and followed suit, peering around. “Would you like me to make tea?” 

“Sure,” she said, flashing him a smile, “that would be great, thanks. The kettle’s just―” 

“I’ll find it.” 

He located the kettle without difficulty, drawing two mugs from a rack and finding a basket of tea varieties in a drawer. The task kept his hands busy as his nerves threatened to encompass him. 

They  _ would _ be returning to their normal lives, and despite everything they had been through and Hermione’s reassuring words, Draco still couldn’t help but feel as if he didn’t quite belong in her life. 

She drifted into the kitchen as he was pouring two cups, pressing a kiss to his cheek before she added a splash of milk to her own. As they retreated back into the sitting room, Hermione fidgeted with the book her counterpart had left on the end table. 

When she flipped the cover open, however, her eyes widened. 

“There’s a letter here.” Her eyes skimmed a sheet of parchment, mouth falling open, before she looked back up at him. “It’s from the other Hermione.” 

“That’s surreal,” Draco muttered, dragging a hand through his hair. “What did she have to say?” 

Hermione cleared her throat and read. “Dear Hermione. If you’re reading this it means the transfer went well and we’re all back home as we should be. As much as Draco and I have enjoyed our time here, we recognise that this isn’t where we belong. If anything, your peaceful existence has given us hope that we might not live stifled by war forever, either.” 

Her lips twitched, eyes glassy as she shook her head. Then she went on. “I hope you don’t mind I stayed here―Harry said you wouldn’t mind. I  _ may _ have caused some problems with your boss―the pompous arse―but he knows the situation so  _ you _ shouldn’t be in any trouble.”

She fell silent, reading the rest of the letter to herself. 

“What?” Draco asked, leaning forward in his seat. “What else does it say?” 

“You should give Draco a chance,” Hermione said quietly, her gaze still fixed on the page. “Ron and I were a mess, honestly, breaking up all the time, and this time away with Draco gave me the chance to really get to know him. If you two are anything like us―and you  _ are _ , literally, us―I imagine you grew up on opposite sides from one another. But I think you’ll come to find that you have more in common than you ever knew. And he really isn’t that big of an arse once you get to know him. In fact, he’s more than I ever imagined.” Her voice dropped to a whisper as she finished, “You’ll thank yourself later. Best wishes to both of you.” 

Draco stared at her, his heart lodged somewhere between his throat and his chest, breathing shallow. 

Hermione flipped over the parchment and snickered. “It says here she tried to get the other Draco to leave you a letter as well―but he only said, ‘he’s me―he knows what I’m thinking.’” 

As Draco barked a laugh, he could almost visualise the other Hermione’s reaction to such a statement.

With a soft titter, his Hermione offered him a watery smile. “It sounds like they figured out the same thing we did.” 

Surprise and incredulity swept through him, lost for words as Draco simply stared at her, a knit between his brows. Then he drew her closer, lips seeking hers as he buried his hands into her hair. 

Pulling back, Draco laid his temple against hers for a moment before finding her eyes again, full of warmth and possibility. 

The words slipped free before he could even think twice. “I love you.” 

Hermione blinked at him, surprise flickering across her face for long enough that instant regret swept through him, and Draco opened his mouth to say something else―he wasn’t certain what―when Hermione’s lips were on his again. 

She drew away, an upwards tilt to her brows as she swallowed, trailing her fingertips along the curve of his jaw. 

“I don’t know how I could have spent all this time getting to know you,” she whispered, eyes shining, “and not fallen completely in love with you.” 

Draco stared at her, his heart clenched tightly in his chest, before he kissed her again. 

She fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, pushing the fabric from his shoulders without breaking away. Draco shrugged the shirt the rest of the way off, his heart pounding in his chest as he deepened the kiss, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. 

Wrenching away, her chest heaving, Hermione dropped her hands to his, encouraging as he tugged the shirt over her head. Realistically, he’d seen her in her underwear more times than he could count, but the experience felt wholly different as he trailed his fingertips along the ladder of her ribs. 

“Come on,” she whispered, biting down on her lower lip. Her fingers interlaced with his and she led him down the corridor and into a bedroom. 

When she reached for his belt, Draco curled his fingers around her wrist, seeking out her gaze. 

She offered a coy smile. “I thought, now that we finally made it back home…” 

At the heat in her stare, his body flared to life, adrenaline clamouring, and he asked lowly, “Are you sure?” 

“Yes.” 

A wry smirk tugged at his lips and he kissed her again, slow and patient. Draco had longed for such a moment since the first time her kisses coiled around his heart, back when they’d thought they were just pretending.

He almost couldn’t comprehend how they had ended up at this point.

And now, with careful, covetous hands, he stripped her of the layers remaining between them, indulging in the feel of her hands on his skin. 

As he laid her on the bed, heart racing in his chest, gazing upon her vulnerable before him, he could feel the weeks and months between them, leading to the emotions he felt in that moment. 

And buried within her, the soft moans slipping from her lips against his ear, Draco felt as if his heart might simply burst. 

Afterwards, as he laid with her in his arms, pressing a lingering kiss to her jaw, he recognised the shift between them and within himself. His heart was at peace and his soul fulfilled.

Hermione rolled to face him, a sleepy smile on her lips as she brushed a kiss to his mouth. “Good night,” she whispered, bare legs tangling with his own. Within moments, Draco felt himself succumb to sleep, drifting into oblivion with a smile on his lips. 

* * *

Draco strolled along Whitehall, hands shoved into his pockets as all of his hesitations converged in the back of his mind, sowing doubt and fear. 

Hermione had left for work early that morning, a warm glow in her eyes as she gave him a lingering kiss. 

Several hours later, he realised it was the longest they had been apart since they had stumbled across one another on this very street, yet so far away. 

Idly, he wondered at how everything would play out in the other timeline between the Collective and the Order of the Phoenix. How Theo would integrate into the Order as a defected Death Eater, something tentative and new blossoming between him and Potter. 

And how the other Draco and Hermione were settling back into their own world, whether they had learned anything during their time here. 

Draco couldn’t help but believe that everything would work out as it was meant to. The partnership between the Order and the Collective would surely prevail in taking down Riddle and the Death Eaters, ultimately restoring peace to London. 

He gazed along the bustling streets around him, recalling how this very road had been destroyed by the chaos of war. That day he had stumbled across Hermione, and she had been the bright spark of hope within a sudden eclipse of darkness. 

Coming to a halt, Draco peered up at the imposing structure of the Ministry of Magic. 

Training to become an Auror wasn’t anything he had ever envisioned for his life, but he had come to recognise it as the path he now desired. He wouldn’t deny Hermione’s influence in his choice; in fact, he embraced it. 

The hope she embodied was contagious. 

And Draco felt a flicker of it within him as he ventured forth. 

  
  


* * *

**THREE WEEKS LATER**

Hermione sat at her desk, idly drawing circles on what was supposed to be a report. Honestly, her heart wasn't in it. After everything she'd been through—traveling to another universe, the entire adventure with Draco, the Collective, and the Order in that timeline—her Ministry job felt like nothing but drudgery. She knew there was bound to be some adjustment to life back where she belonged, but after three weeks, there'd been no improvement. 

Draco, on the other hand, had completely revamped his entire life. He'd applied to the DMLE and already completed and aced the written portion of the entrance exam. He was truly going to train to be an Auror. Hermione was excited for him. 

She was just about to force herself to really focus when a silvery-white stag came trotting to her desk. 

"Hermione, come to mine as soon as possible. Bring Malfoy."

Knowing that Grimmauld Place had been the location where they'd handled the transportation of themselves from the other universe, Hermione didn't waste a moment. Her superiors were aware of her experience, so she knew they'd have no issue with her leaving early to answer Harry's summons. If it turned out that he didn't want her on some related matter, she'd stay late one night later that week.

She collected Draco from her flat, where they'd taken up together since returning, and Apparated them both into Harry's living room. 

"And he didn't say what this was about?" Draco frowned. 

"No, but I'm almost certain it's about the other side."

They didn't have to wonder long. Harry had heard their arrival and bounded in. "Good, you're here. Come to the dining room."

Hermione and Draco exchanged a glance, then hurried after him. 

"As you know, we keep a piece of paper in the room, along with a few items made of basic materials. Well, we got a letter from the other side less than an hour ago." He pointed to the slip of parchment on the table. "It's for both of you."

Hermione rushed to read and Draco settled himself beside her. 

_ Draco and Hermione, _

_ We got your letters and think it's amusing that we both had the same ideas. Things here are going better than we could have possibly expected. Though, of course, it was a shock to return and learn all about what you two were up to here. Seems you didn't need our advice at all. We're glad. We hope you're enjoying being back where you belong.  _

_ We want you to know that we've considered your request from all angles, and as much as we hate to admit it, we've come to the same conclusion that you have. We plan to destroy the device as soon as this series of communications is complete. The problem is, once we've destroyed the device and all of Draco's notes, there's still too much at stake. We plan to remove the memories of how the device works from the minds of everyone who was involved. That includes everyone who you two spoke to about getting home. Everyone here has agreed. Once the memories are retrieved, we want to send them through to your side, so there's no chance anyone here could find them and recreate what Draco here created. It's simply too risky; the technology is too powerful to risk letting it fall into the wrong hands.  _

_ Please respond within ninety minutes of receiving this letter to let us know you got it. Then we'll send a message with an exact measure of how much mass to gather in your dining room. Ninety minutes after that, we'll switch the memories for whatever you find to send us.  _

_ Once you have the vials, we hope you'll destroy them. Nobody, in any universe, should have the ability to jump from one to another. We're almost certain you'll agree with us.  _

_ As for 'us,' we had a very rocky re-entry, but things are beginning to smooth out.  _

_ We desperately miss ice cream, and the ability to leisurely stroll down the street while eating it even more so. _

_ Until next time, _

_ Hermione & Draco _

They finished reading about the same time. 

Hermione looked at Harry. "Did you read this?" When he shook his head, she quickly filled him in.

"I'll get a quill. We should respond before we do anything else." He left to find the items. 

"What do you think?" Hermione asked, biting her lip.

Draco shrugged, leaning casually on the table. "I think it's wise to destroy every shred of evidence of what they discovered. Like they said, it's too risky, too powerful. If the Dark Lord got hold of the technology? He could travel to different universes at will."

"Probably only ours." She shuddered at the thought. "Not that that's very comforting." 

Draco's jaw clenched. "He can't come here; it's... just not possible."

She put her hand on his and gave a gentle squeeze. "Don't worry. We'll help them with this, then it won't be possible."

Harry came back with writing tools and parchment. Hermione got to work penning a response; it was due in less than ten minutes. When she finished, she let Draco and Harry read over it. They set it on the table inside the area designated for transport and left the room, shutting the door behind them. 

A few minutes later, they saw a flash of light under the door and knew the transfer had been made. Draco hurried through first and found a repeat of the first letter, though this one had an additional line at the bottom.

_ P.S. if you've already replied to this note, then we will send you the mass of the memories at the next transfer in ninety minutes. All we need for that is a sheet of parchment. _

Hermione grinned. “Draco, I think we should send them ice cream when they send the memories over.”

He laughed. “I think that's a fabulous idea.”

“Harry, do you happen to know what their favourite flavours were?”

“Are you sure we should try to send something edible?” Harry was frowning. “It could be a huge mess.”

She shrugged. “That's a risk we're willing to take.”

“Besides, we’re not the one who’ll have to clean it up.” Draco smirked.

Harry did know their ice cream preferences and they decided to go out to retrieve some once they knew how much they would need.

When the next note came through with the mass of the memories, Draco and Hermione went out to Diagon Alley and got a few different flavours from Fortescue's ice cream parlor. It was the shop Harry had said their counterparts went to the most. Indeed, Fortescue recognised them both, though he had no idea he’d been serving their other versions, and he knew exactly what to get for them.

They returned to Grimmauld place with lots of ice cream, laughing and joking and enjoying their own cones.

“How often did they go there?” Hermione asked Harry. “Fortescue knew us very, very well.”

“Oh, at least once a day.” Harry smiled. “That Draco had quite a sweet tooth, might have been worse than yours, Malfoy.”

They got right to work weighing the ice cream so that the mass matched up with what the other side was sending. Then, when the time came, they waited outside the door for the flash of light before they hurried back into the room.

Twelve vials of memories had appeared, their silvery substance swimming as if alive. Hermione wondered if that would be the last communication, but she found a note slipped between two vials. 

_ We can't thank you enough for this. Thank you for taking our mess and destroying it. We feel so much better knowing the information is no longer in our possession.  _

_ Harry and Theo send their best. Ron is... coping. Change is hard for him, and he doesn't understand that when we returned, so much was different.  _

_ We will be destroying the devices soon. This will be our last message. The Order has started to hunt for those Horcrux things, as you called them, and Dumbledore believes our Voldemort did, in fact, create some here. It's such a relief to think that we have a path forward now, thin though the chance seems.  _

_ Oh, Naylen also sends his greetings. You two made quite an impression on him, and I don't think he'll ever warm to us the way he clearly has with you. Sounds like you had quite an adventure here in our stead. _

_ We are eternally thankful for your assistance in our fight, and we recognize that you were under no obligation to do so—none except your own motivation and desire to help.  _

_ It's humbling.  _

_ We must close now, and we wish you all the best. Eat lots of ice cream for us.  _

_ H&D _

They'd barely finished reading when there was another flash, and a single slip of paper fluttered down onto the table. 

_ Thank you for the ice cream! It's incredible! _

Hermione and Draco exchanged a look. She smoothed the last piece parchment out as though it were a precious treasure.

"You think that's it?" Draco glanced towards the note. "The last we’ll hear from them?"

Hermione nodded. "It's too bad, really. I would have liked to know how their war progressed, when it ends, who wins..."

"Assuming it's the Order." Draco picked up a vial. "Think we should look at these?"

She gave him a sharp stare. "No, I don't. Nobody here knows how to make the devices, not even you and I, and I think it should stay that way. If we learned, how is that any different? They’re giving up this knowledge willingly, but that doesn’t mean we should acquire it."

"We aren't going to use it for nefarious purposes, you know." He nudged her with his elbow. "Or have you taken an interest in the Dark Arts that you haven't told me about?"

"Of course not.” Hermione rolled her eyes. “But who here knows about this? All it would take is a slip up and someone  _ here _ could learn the truth. They could travel  _ there  _ and bring Voldemort back  _ here _ ."

"That's… that’s the worst possible thing I can imagine." He shuddered. "But... what if it was only me who looked?"

"Why, Draco?" She folded her arms and fixed him with a glare.  _ "Why _ do you want to know?"

"It's like you said, I only want to know how their war turns out." He shrugged. “I don’t know any other way to find out.”

Hermione turned back to the vials, examining the labels carefully. "Something tells me if they want to get a message to us, they'll find a way."

"What makes you say that?"

“What do you see?” She pushed the box of memories over to him. "Or rather, what  _ don't  _ you see?"

Draco checked every vial, frowned, and did it again. Then his eyes widened slightly, and he pulled two from among the rest. One looked exactly like memories ought to look, full of shining, blueish-silvery liquid in constant motion. The other was very much like it, but it didn't shine and the color was slightly off. "Other Draco switched his."

Hermione sighed. "Which means he is the only person who knows the full truth." 

"I trust him."

"You do? How?” She bit her lip in worry. “You don't even know him."

"In a way, I do. Since he's that universe's version of me."

"But his entire life was different!"

"And yet he ended up turning on the Dark Lord, going to the Order, showing more courage than I ever did. Now, he's with his Hermione, and... I know she’ll keep him grounded. She’ll help keep his moral compass straight." 

Draco set the memories down and pulled her into his arms. She let him, eyes fluttering shut at the familiar embrace, the arms she loved to be in. "I hope you're right."

"You believed in me when we were over there. You never doubted me, not once. And I have to do that for him." He swallowed thickly. "Someone should."

"Maybe she does. I suppose you trusting him is good enough for me." Hermione motioned towards all the memories. "What should we do with these? How shall we destroy them, I mean?"

"A burning charm should do the trick, yeah?" He pulled out his wand. "Want me to do it?"

"Alright." She bit her lip, looking up at him. "This is a lot harder than I thought it would be."

"Maybe so. But there's nothing for it." He glanced at her. "This is the right thing to do."

Hermione nodded fervently. "Yes. Absolutely." 

Draco closed his eyes and cast the spell. In seconds, the vials had split open, the memories running together. Fire had a curious effect on them: they turned green first, then yellow, then gold, then white, and pearlescent steam rose up and dissipated in the air. After a few minutes, every trace of the memories was gone. 

Hermione put her head on his shoulder. "Well, it's officially the end of that adventure. I do wish we'd been able to hear how things turned out."

"Remember. Fake-O didn't destroy his memories. I'm guessing he kept just enough supplies so that, if he needs to, he can contact us." Draco kissed the top of her head and grasped her hand. "Something tells me it's not over for good."

Hermione turned out the light as they left the dining room. "I hope you're right."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading everyone! We had a lot of fun writing this story and we hope you enjoyed reading it!


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